


The Reason We Were Here

by arrowiskawaii



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hogwarts, M/M, Marauders' Era, Slice of Life, implied/referenced child aduse, jily, longfic, pseudo canon compliant, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowiskawaii/pseuds/arrowiskawaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young Marauders would have you know that if the world is to burn, then it should at least burn brightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody, this story is a rewrite/expansion of my 2009 fic, The World Shall Brightly Burn, a story about the Marauders at Hogwarts. This has been a massive undertaking and the fic is currently on hiatus while I overhaul what I've written once again. By the way, this fic is what I call "pseudo canon compliant," which means I've honored most of the canon but sometimes I contradict the details. I always accept constructive criticism and would especially appreciate feedback on my use of time period appropriate slang. Thanks for reading!

****  
September of 1971  
**Year One**

Remus J. Lupin was just a little too short, as far as he was concerned. He was also plain featured, brown haired and brown eyed, but none of this bothered him so much as being short. He was truly no greater in stature—and certainly no more remarkable—than a conveniently placed table, perfect for setting down a book or a cup of tea. Remus worried that his greatest obstacle at Hogwarts may soon have nothing to do with keeping secrets: what if no one took notice of him at all? What if never made a single friend, and was doomed to spend the rest of his school career trying not to be crushed by the footfalls of his more normal-sized classmates?

Remus might have faded into the crowd at Platform 9 and 3/4 completely, in fact, had not been for one very peculiar aspect of his appearance: two long scars that ran down his cheek, and a third that went over his nose. These scars were not half as ugly as they used to be, but they did nothing for his appearance—except maybe to suggest that he had once lost a spectacular battle against a garden gnome.

The more he dwelt on it, the more depressed Remus became. He had to admit that going unnoticed for the next seven years might actually be for the best—how on earth could he even begin to explain himself if someone ever asked about his face?

"Promise me you'll behave yourself," Mrs. Lupin said, hugging Remus with an unnecessarily hard squeeze. Her only son would soon be off to school and separated from her for the first time ever. "Remember how kind Professor Dumbledore has been to allow you to come, Remus. So let's not do anything that might make him regret it, okay?"

"I'll be as good as I can be, Mum," Remus insisted. "I promise."

"And remember to write to us when you can—"

"I will."

"—and tell us if you need anything—"

"I know."

"—and if it ever gets to be too much and you want to come back home, your father and I will completely understand. You don't even need to get on that train if you don't want to!"

"I want to go, Mum!"

"I know you do," said Mrs. Lupin softly, petting his hair. "But don't think I don't realize how scary this is for all of us, darling."

Scary or not, Remus had never wanted anything so badly: to board the Hogwarts Express and be like every other young wizard in Britain, off to Hogwarts to learn magic and meet other children his age. And yet there was another part of him, a frightened part, a part which secretly believed that Professor Dumbledore must have some very bad judgement to be allowing this. Perhaps _this_  would be Remus' truest adversary—the part which nagged at him, which told him it was selfish to want to be normal, and that he ought to throw himself at his parents and demand to go back home right this instant.

"Be brave, Remus," said Mr. Lupin. He took the opportunity to clap his son on the shoulder just as Remus wiggled out from Mrs. Lupin's embrace. "I'm sure it won't always be easy, but you'll have help to keep suspicion off of you well enough. I have faith in you."

Mr. Lupin, of course, was referring to the one other difference between Remus and the other Hogwarts students: the part where he just so happened to be a werewolf.

Lycanthropy was a wizard disease without a cure. If was all over if you were bitten— _bam_ , a werewolf, no going back, and that was that. A werewolf was a werewolf forever, and there was no point praying you weren't. Remus was already a somewhat unusual case, having received his bite at the age of four—most very young children did not survive the attack—but more unusual still, Remus was about to be the very first werewolf ever allowed to attend Hogwarts. And there was a very good reason why no other werewolf had ever been allowed, in Remus' opinion: because despite all the precautions the staff were willing to take, despite Professor Dumbledore's belief that a boy as clever as Remus deserved the best possible education, Remus still feared everything going terribly wrong. The possibility, the mere  _thought_  of hurting another human while transformed under the full moon, never failed to make Remus sick to his stomach.

"Thanks, Dad," said Remus, but his voice shook.

"There's a good boy," Mr. Lupin said encouragingly, and a whistle blew, warning that the train would leave shortly. Mr. and Mrs. Lupin helped their son pull his trunk onto the train while Remus' owl hooted gloomily from its swinging cage. There was a lot of kissing and hugging and crying from Mrs. Lupin, who offered at least ten more times to let Remus come back home.

The Hogwarts Express lurched forward at last, starting off on its journey, and Remus pressed his nose against a window to try to catch sight of his parents one more time. He waved to them, but went unnoticed, as his mother had her face in a handkerchief and his father was comforting her.

The train picked up speed. Remus wrenched himself away from the glass, sighing, and went off to try to find an empty compartment to sit in. It seemed that the older students had already found their friends and sat down, so it was mostly only first years who still wandered up the aisles with a hopeful eyes. Remus, however, kept his head down.

"Oi," someone said.

Another boy had come rolling his trunk down the corridor. His eyes were hazel beneath his glasses and he had black hair that went all over the place—he was a little awkward looking, as eleven-year-olds often were, but would certainly stand out in a crowd with more success than Remus.

"Hi," said the boy. "You're a first year too, right?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. When he tried to speak, however, no sound came out.

"I was just about to go into this compartment right here," the boy carried on, pointing. "There's a girl in there, but she looks alright. Seems a bit depressed though. I wonder if she's homesick already?"

"I wouldn't know," Remus said. The inside of his mouth felt like a desert, or maybe cardboard—he was unused to strangers speaking to him so casually. He wasn't even on casual terms with most of his own family members, as most of his extended family preferred that he stayed in his bedroom while they visited.

"She looks lonely, if what I'm saying," the boy continued. "So do you wanna sit with me and maybe…?"

"I have somewhere else to sit," lied Remus.

"Oh," the boy said, his face falling a little. "Well, that's alright. My name's James Potter, by the way. Be seeing you around, then."

Remus nodded curtly as the boy ducked into the compartment and disappeared. Remus felt frustrated with himself already—it seemed the second Remus  _had_  been noticed, anxiety overwhelmed him and he'd wanted to get away as quickly as possible. But being noticed was dangerous, he rationalized this to himself, because as nice as it would be to have friends, isolating himself was the best way to keep his secret safe. Besides, James Potter treating him nicely was probably some kind of a fluke.

Yes, Remus convinced himself, it  _had_  to be a fluke. What he  _really_  needed was to find a compartment he could have to himself, and then he could start writing a letter to his parents, to let them know that he was still in good health and eating right since he had last seen them five minutes ago. Maybe if he could just avoid human contact altogether for the next seven years, Remus thought miserably, he would be better off.

Remus traveled further down the aisle, his trunk bumping along after him, and sorely wished for the thousandth time that day, like he did everyday, that he wasn't a werewolf. When he came at last to the train's final compartment, Remus was happy to find it apparently unoccupied. He slowly opened the door.

"Er," he began, hoping that no one was going to answer, "is anyone in here…?"

His voice faded immediately. There were two people inside, just far enough to the left that they couldn't have been seen through the window. They seemed to be having an argument that might turn into a shouting match at any moment, and neither of them was paying attention to the person who was standing at the compartment door.

One of them was a tall girl with light brown hair, probably a seventh year, and she was already wearing her black school robes. Remus noticed she was fumbling with a large, silver pin on her robes that meant that she was the Head Girl.

" _Honestly_ ," she said, so distracted she stabbed herself in the finger, "I don't care how stubborn you are about it, you can't just change that who you are on a whim. The entire family's been in Slytherin. We  _belong_  in Slytherin."

"It's your bloody thoughts the hat cares about it, not your family," said the boy who was arguing with her, and he looked very intimidating, which was saying something, as eleven-year-olds didn't often look intimidating. "Besides, I'm sure there's been other Blacks who haven't been in Slytherin—"

"Then name a few," the girl challenged.

The boy opened his mouth, but it seemed he had no response, so he settled for a glare. Remus guessed from the shape of the arguers' faces and their similar mannerisms that they were probably related.

"But I don't  _want_  to be in Slytherin, and that's  _got_  to count for  _something_! I don't  _want_  to be surrounded by all our snot-nosed cousins—"

" _I_  would be one of those snot-nosed cousins," the girl snapped at him, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "And being a Slytherin isn't anything to be ashamed of—it's the house for those of us who are ambitious, for both good reasons and bad. Considering this lifelong dream of yours to just defy all logic and go to Gryffindor, that could probably qualify you as a Slytherin all on its own—"

"But Gryffindor sounds  _loads_  better than Slytherin! At least I won't be hearing about purebloods and how they're better than everyone else until I  _vomit_ —"

"You are literally unbelievable. I know it's hard with your parents always going on about that, and mine do too, but there's no doubt you're going to be—"

"I'm not talking to you anymore," the boy announced angrily, grabbing his trunk with a violent tug. Remus was reminded that he was still standing in the doorway and was probably about to be run over. "I'm going to go sit with the boy I met on the platform. I liked him, and he says his Dad was in Gryffindor. Maybe I ought to make friends with people who actually  _care_  that they're lumped in with the same lot as Voldemort!"

"Fine, ignore what I say, I'm not stopping you," the girl said, and dismissed him with an irritated wave of her hand. The boy turned to leave the compartment in a huff, but then he looked up and noticed for the first time that Remus was standing there.

"Er," said Remus, "sorry, I'll just—"

He faltered at the the nasty look in the boy's eyes.

"You've got a great big chunk missing out of your nose, you know that?"

Remus' mouth opened by a fraction—but the boy shoved him out of the way and went storming down the corridor with his trunk wheeling behind.

" _Sirius!_  Dammit, get back here!"

But he was long gone already, and the girl looked more agitated than ever as she came forward and helped Remus back up. She wasn't too terribly successful, however, as Remus's limbs refused to cooperate—all of his worst fears and nightmares were now running through his head like a film played at double speed, and now he was considering that he might go find somewhere dark where he could curl up and die quietly without causing anyone a hassle.

"I'm sorry he was rude to you," the girl apologized, when Remus finally got the feeling back in his legs and straightened up. "That was my little cousin. He's usually not that much of a brat, I'm sure he's didn't really  _mean_ —"

The girl's eyes swept over the scars on Remus' face and she apparently decided it was best to swallow what she was going to say.

"Anyway, I have Head Girl duties to attend to," she said, hastily. "Do you not have anywhere to sit? You can stay in this compartment if you'll watch my things. I'm Andromeda Black, by the way, so feel free to come after me if Sirius gives you any more trouble. You're a first year right? What's your name?"

"Remus Lupin," mumbled Remus.

"Not from a big wizarding family then, I guess? You seem like a Ravenclaw, if you ask me—people who like keeping to themselves usually feel right at home there." Andromeda smiled, giving Remus the impression that she already understood him much too well. "Have you put any thought into what house you want to be in?"

"Probably Ravenclaw," Remus answered, but it came out in a strange way, and was more or less chewing his own tongue as he said it. "That was my Dad's house. Gryffindor sounds alright, but I don't think I'm brave enough to be one myself."

Andromeda nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, at least you've got more of a chance than Sirius does," she said, and then she left the compartment.


	2. Quite Unlikely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a couple of unnecessary disclaimers: first, end-of-series spoilers begin as of this chapter, and secondly, I'm not 100% confident about my use of retro British slang, so I welcome any corrections or suggestions. Thanks for reading!

The compartment door slid open just as Remus was skimming _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_. He suspected at first that Andromeda Black had returned already, but in fact she hadn't—two unfamiliar students now poked their heads into the compartment.

"Nice scar," said the boy in front, pointing at Remus' nose. The boy's pale complexion and otherwise fragile-looking appearance—as well as his lack of manners—left Remus with the strong impression that he'd most likely been raised in a cave. He also had such an unusually prominent nose of his own that it seemed a touch unfair to be making an issue of anyone else's.

This boy also seemed like the very last person on earth to be standing next to the freckled girl beside him who, if nothing else, had definitely not been raised in a cave: every part of her looked extremely well cared for, and her clothing had probably never been worn, or at the very least furiously washed and pressed just this morning. Remus wished he could say that about his own clothing, though he'd never much cared about that before this very moment.

"Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full," the girl said. Remus only sunk back into his seat in lieu of a response, so both strangers saw themselves in. While the girl rolled in a trunk behind her which looked brand new, the boy's looked battered, like someone else had already used his for years.

"Oh, you have a  _cat_ ," the girl cooed, noting the slumbering black cat on the luggage rack. Remus himself had only noticed the cat ten minutes earlier—he had to assume it was Andromeda's.

"You're not allergic are you, Sev?"

"No, I don't care if he's got a cat…"

"It's not my cat," Remus blurted out, and the girl's green eyes met his own. He thought that they were a very attractive color.

"Then whose cat is it?"

"Someone left it here earlier. That's her trunk, right there…" Remus pointed and then looked back at them apologetically. "She'll probably come back some time, but I don't know for sure."

"Will she mind that we're here?" asked the boy. He sounded unnecessary worried, as though he spent half of his life apologizing for his very existence.

"I don't think so," Remus answered. His knees knocked together, but it seemed too late now to hope he'd be left alone. "She's the Head Girl, so I'd expect she'd be nice enough to let us all stay."

"Andromeda Black's the Head Girl this year, Lily," the boy explained, turning with excited eyes to the girl—her name was Lily, apparently. "I heard from my parents that she's one of Hogwarts' best students. She's a Slytherin."

"Do you know her?" asked Remus.

"Not really, I've just heard of her," said the boy. He sounded a lot more secure now that he could show that he knew something neither of the others did. "She's from the Black family—that's a really famous pureblood family, Lily. Anyway, I'm going to be in Slytherin too. We both are."

Remus glanced at Lily, who could no longer quite look her friend in the eye. She didn't seem to have the kind of temperament for Slytherin house, Remus thought, and perhaps she was thinking along these same lines. But then again, perhaps Lily came from a long line of purebloods...

"What's your name?" Remus asked Lily, wondering if her last name would sound familiar.

"I'm Lily Evans," she admitted reluctantly. "And I'm actually a Muggle-born. I didn't even know I was a witch for a really long time. And I'm really starting to doubt that I'm going to be in Slytherin, you know? Don't you think I'd probably be in Hufflepuff or something, Sev? I thought there weren't any Muggle-borns in Slytherin to begin with."

"Maybe you'll get in anyway," the boy said quickly. "They can make exceptions if it's the best house for you, can't they?"

Remus doubted this. Mr. Lupin had told him all about Slytherin house and its obsession with purebloodedness, but worse than that, he had also heard whispers of Slytherin's dark history, and how many members approved of men like Lord Voldemort and had even risen to fight for his cause. Remus couldn't deny that he at least partially understood why the obnoxious boy from earlier had acted like becoming a Slytherin would be the last thing he'd do.

The fragile-looking boy spoke only to Lily now, filling her in on as many details as he could about the day ahead—the customary journey across the lake, the Sorting, the feast—and Lily just nodded her head and occasionally asked questions. Remus listened as well, because it was like hearing his father's voice all over again, who had done his very best to inform Remus of what he could expect at Hogwarts. Remus' mother, a Muggle, had also been quite interested in this wizarding school which Mr. Lupin had rarely mentioned before Remus' acceptance letter. In the end, though, Mr. Lupin had offered such an overwhelming amount of advice that Remus now privately believed that he too feared, deep down, that Remus' chances of failure were already quite high...

A woman came by their compartment around lunchtime, pushing along a trolley laden with food. Most of it was a variety of different snacks in colorful wrappers, including sweets.

"Wizards have their own  _sweets_?" said Lily, incredulous. Her friend nodded with a little smile on his face as she got up to buy one of everything, and then several more of the kinds she thought looked promising.

But neither of the boys left their seats. The fragile-looking boy seemed very sad to say that he didn't have the money for frivolous spending, and Remus refused for the same reasons. The truth, however, was that Remus' parents had given him a perfectly reasonable amount of gold to last him for the next few terms, but they were also the sort of people who thought Remus had enough problems without allowing junk food into his diet. Remus shuddered to think of what his father and mother might say if they knew he'd broken their trust on his very first day away from home.

"That's okay if you don't have the money," Lily said brightly to both of them. "Let's share."

The boy across from Remus acted highly embarrassed at first, but then he thanked Lily graciously and helped himself to a Licorice Wand. Even Remus found himself very tempted as Lily waved her forbidden snacks right in front of him.

"Go on," Lily urged.

But Remus had already realized what should have been immediately obvious to any other boy his age—that his parents would never _, ever_  have to find out about this, so long as he never told them. Remus could at last have a secret he was able to keep from his parents for the very first time in his life.

It may have been only a small action, but it was as good a place as any to start down the path of rebellion. Remus chose something that looked like chocolate and stared down at it as though he now held a forbidden treasure in his hands.

"What is this?" Remus asked, his heart racing at little.

The boy next to Lily partially inhaled a Pumpkin Pastie.

"Are you a Muggle-born too?" he sputtered. Lily looked at Remus with hope in her eyes.

"I'm a half-blood. I've just never tried one of these."

"It's a Chocolate Frog," said the boy, as though Remus must've been the only half-blood in the world who didn't know. "Can't you see it's a frog through the plastic? Go on and open it, it comes with a Wizard Card, lots of people collect them…"

Remus very carefully opened the Chocolate Frog's wrapper (as opposed to ripping open the packaging and littering it on the floor, which Lily and her friend were doing). Then he pulled the frog out of the wrapper and set it on his open palm. The frog seemed very realistic, even if it did not move—he easily could have held an entirely real, chocolate-coated frog in his hand.

"Go on then," Lily encouraged him. "What card is it?"

Remus now produced the Wizard Card from its wrapper and turned it over.

"Merlin," Remus announced, and he held it out to show the other two. Lily reached out with eager hands to see it, saying breathlessly to herself, "he's  _real_?"

"That's a common one," the boy drawled. "I don't collect them, but—"

Lily interrupted him with a shriek. Her friend whipped out his wand in self-defense, though Remus was fairly sure he can't have known any spells yet.

"What's wrong?" Remus inquired, once he'd looked around and saw no immediate danger.

"The picture moved!"

Both boys stared in disbelief as Lily shoved the Wizard Card into their faces. Remus had to lean sideways to see what Merlin was doing—he merely give a polite cough into his hand and looked up at them with a bored expression.

"And?" said the boy.

" _They're_   _not supposed to move_ ,  _Sev_!"

"Blimey," said Remus, running a hand through his hair. "Not supposed to move?"

" _Oh_ ," said the boy, suddenly understanding. "That's right! Lily's only ever seen pictures that don't move, now that I think of it. In our world, Lily, all of the pictures move… they can do all sorts of things, even walk right out of the picture if they want… look, he's doing it right now!"

Lily watched, wide-eyed, as Merlin's likeness casually went up to the side of the card and disappeared.

"Wow," Lily breathed. "That's… that's really  _cool_."

"Yeah. Wait until you get into the castle, Mum said there's paintings and tapestries everywhere and the people in them can even go on walks—"

"How much do you know about what the inside of Hogwarts looks like?" Remus asked. "How big is it? Er… Sev?"

The boy laughed. It was a strange laugh, like he hadn't had something to be amused by in quite a long time.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he put out his hand. "I forgot to tell you who I was. My name's Severus Snape."

"Remus Lupin."

He put out his hand and shook Severus'—his skin felt a little cool to the touch. Lily looked embarrassed that she too had forgotten to ask for his name, though when she tried apologizing, Remus merely shrugged and finally bit off a piece of the Chocolate Frog which had begun melting in his hand.

"How is it?" Severus asked.

"Mm," was all that Remus could say, sorely wishing that he'd defied his parents' wishes about him not eating such things long ago. He would be rebellious any day for  _this_.


	3. In The Distance

**III. In the Distance**

Lily checked her wristwatch after noticing that the sky had darkened outside.

"We'll be there in less than thirty minutes. Shouldn't we clean this up?"

Though Lily's mountainous pile of snacks had long been eaten, the compartment's occupants now faced an equally mountainous pile of rubbish. Remus smiled guiltily at the sight and briefly amused himself with the thought of transforming at the next full moon with a mouth full of cavity-riddled fangs.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Severus assured Lily. "I'm sure it's somebody's job to tidy up after us once we're gone."

"That's still a bit impolite, in my opinion..."

"We won't be the only ones who made a mess," Remus pointed out. "Besides, wizards use magic to do their cleaning. We haven't made extra work for anyone if they already plan to clean the entire train, you know?"

"Well... okay." Remus greatly empathized with the lingering uncertainty on Lily's face—it was quite hard to break a years' long habit. "We still need to get changed soon, though. Remus and I are still in our Muggle clothes."

Severus nodded his agreement, and convinced Remus that they should exit compartment to give Lily some privacy while she redressed. However, this meant that Remus and Severus soon found themselves standing in awkward silence in the corridor.

"So, er." Severus seemed as bad at making conversation as Remus was, if not worse. "How come you've got those scars on your face?"

"Er." Remus had to think of either a very good lie or a way to avoid the question. "It's an embarrassing story, really."

"What'd you do?" Severus grinned timidly. "Leave milk out for a knarl?"

Remus laughed like he'd hit the nail on the head, deciding to depreciate himself instead of telling him the real story.

"I _suspected_ it was a knarl, in my defense. I just wanted to see what it'd do."

"Well _that_ was stupid of you."

"Yeah," agreed Remus. "I guess it was."

The truth was that it was more than a year ago when it happened: behind the Lupins' home at the time there had been a tool shed, an empty tool shed with an unusually heavy door. Remus was kept magically locked and silenced inside at every full moon—he lost all sense of himself when transformed, and would spend the night searching for a means of escape, always eventually resorting to violence and throwing himself against the walls in anger at his situation. He also injured himself on purpose—if he didn't have any humans to bite, he had to bite  _something_. So Remus, the werewolf, had been right in the middle of gnawing on his own front paw when he'd sensed something most unusual: the smell of a human nearby.

Remus would realize only the next morning that this human was in fact the farmer from next door, his nice old Muggle neighbor who let Remus borrow his books and come pick what he liked out of his garden. All this couldn't have meant less to his transformed self: Remus had gone instantly into a desperate rage, slamming his body weight repeatedly into the door and howling. The oddly shuddering walls of the shed only startled the farmer into fleeing, however, and Remus' wolfish senses informed him of his prey's escape. He was so furious with himself for this failure that he'd intentionally slashed open his own muzzle, and bled so profusely that he was quite weak by the time his father found him in the morning.

The next day, the farmer came to the Lupins' home to share his suspicions that some sort of wild animal must have snuck into their tool shed. Remus was resting in his bedroom at the time, face heavily bandaged, but could still make out his mother promise's to investigate the matter as soon as possible. She came to check on Remus a little later, begging him to forgive himself, reminding him that he wasn't a bad person even if we wished terrible things upon people while transformed... 

Remus, though hardly a stranger to insane, abrupt urges, surprised himself with the compulsion to confess all that he could to Severus. _What was wrong with him?_ Was an afternoon spent in pleasant conversation with a pair of fellow misfits really all it took for him to start with this foolishness? What happened to the Remus who stood at Platform 9 and 3/4, genuinely considering the option of living like a recluse at Hogwarts? Surely that was the only way to keep his secrets safe? That would be the only way he achieve a semblance of normalcy in his life, even if it made him miserable...

"Severus," Remus began, tremulously.

 _No!_  Oh god, now he'd done it...

"What?"

Remus knew he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to. He must never say a word to anyone, even if Lily and Severus became his best friends. They wouldn't understand. No one did. Only his parents could still love him after knowing what he was, and even they were still afraid…

"How did you and Lily meet?"

"Me and Lily?" Severus immediately warmed to this topic of conversation. "We met by chance, really—"

"Oi, Snivellus! Alright there?"

Remus jumped and looked around. The boys named James and Sirius stood at the other end of the corridor, now dressed in their school robes. James had an devilish look on his face despite seeming so friendly earlier, and Sirius was cackling at his side. Remus wondered if James had shouted down the corridor at them only because Sirius had egged him on—either way, this sudden change in behavior made Remus feel he'd clearly missed something.

"Ignore them," Severus said quietly, so that the other two boys couldn't hear. One of his hands was balled up into a fist, and what was left of the color in his face was turning red. "Lily and I had some trouble with them earlier..."

"You say something, Snivellus?" Sirius called out. "Couldn't hear you!"

Remus narrowed his eyes. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was bullying.

"Leave him alone," Remus said, loudly.

"What are  _you_  doing with him?" James deflated almost instantly at the sight of Remus—Sirius, however, redoubled his effort to torment them.

"Alright there, kid? Keeping to your own kind, with that nasty scarred-up nose of yours?"

"I'd keep away from Snivellus, if I were you," James added. His snobbish tone had come back already. "Come sit in our compartment, why don't you? Don't want to end up in Slytherin with  _that_  ugly prat."

"I don't want to end up in the house  _you're_  going to be in, either," Remus said coolly. He racked his brain for a moment, trying to think of a good follow-up—it was quite exciting, actually, as he'd never had a reason to insult somebody before. "If there's a house for arrogant little berks, I'm betting on that one."

" _We're_  going to be in  _Gryffindor_ ," Sirius declared, jabbing his thumb into his chest. "So you can shove it."

"I doubt it," said Severus softly. He was glaring at Sirius as though everything had gone wrong in the world if someone like him had been blessed with good looks. "You're a Black. You're going to be in Slytherin whether you like it or not."

"Not likely," Sirius spat. "I've had enough of—"

The compartment behind Remus slammed open, leaving Sirius without time to finish his sentence. Lily marched out into the corridor with a swirl of her robes—she even had her wand out, but couldn't decide which bully she most wanted to point it at.

" _Enough_ ," she hissed. "You shut up about them!  _Both_ of them!"

"Well hello, whatever your name is!" said James, his voice changing once more. "Fancy seeing you here—"

"Shut up and stop bullying my friends!" Lily shouted. Remus' heart leapt stupidly into his throat. "Find some other hobby!"

"Yeah, Sirius," simpered James, looking to his friend as though he hadn't had anything to do with this. "Find some other hobby, won't you?"

"But I've only just picked up this particular hobby," said Sirius. He grinned. "Maybe you should try it out too, ginger. It's been quite fun so far."

"Ha ha." Lily moved forward, and both Severus and Remus stepped back on instinct. "You both are just  _too_  funny. Now leave us alone and go back to your compartment. Don't you think about insulting any of us ever again."

"You're just a wet blanket," complained James, but Sirius went a bit further.

"Or you'll do what? Going to hurt us? You can't do magic, who are you trying to fool?"

"I will," Lily said, nostrils flaring. "I will soon enough."

"Tell us when that is then," Sirius told her, faking a yawn. "I'll—"

"Is someone fighting out here?" A fellow student chose a very inconvenient time to poke his head out of his compartment in concern—Lily Evans had just stormed up the corridor and slammed her fist into Sirius' face.

" _Argh!_ "

The boy disappeared back into his compartment with a yelp. Lily massaged her knuckles as James, Remus and Severus all blinked at one another, dumbfounded.

"Brilliant," said Severus, cracking a smile.

"Wicked," Remus agreed.

"Thank you," said Lily, breathlessly, then turned back to Sirius. While his injury didn't look bad enough to indicate a broken nose, he now appeared to be suffering a satisfyingly heavy nosebleed. "That should remind you to watch your manners from now on, Black. And I hope you rather like your new look—an ugly face fits your ugly personality better, I think."

Sirius growled at her as he bled into his hand. 

"Having an ugly face means I qualify to be one your stupid friends though, doesn't it?"

James wisely shoved Sirius back into their compartment before Lily could react.

"Thanks, Lily," Severus mumbled, as she came to join them again. Remus grinned at her while making a mental note to avoid making her mad in the future.

"You don't think I'll get in trouble for that, will I?" Lily asked. She was apparently the kind of girl who punched first and asked if she'd get a detention later.

"Probably not," Severus reasoned. "I doubt they'll tell on you anyway. Imagine having to tell a teacher you got punched in the face by a girl before you even made it to the Sorting..."

Severus seemed pleased with himself for making both Lily and Remus laugh. 

A voice came wafting down the length of the train a moment later, announcing to the students that ten minutes remained before the Hogwarts Express would reach its destination. Severus and Lily offered to wait on Remus now, who'd managed to forget that he needed to change once again.

Once inside the compartment, Remus double-checked to make sure his new found friends weren't looking in before he dared remove his shirt. The scars on Remus' face were already bad enough, but both his arms were perpetually covered in half-healed scratches and scars that would be equally hard to explain. Some of his injuries were bad enough that even he hated to look down at himself and be reminded of them...

Remus sighed, and as he donned his robes he happened to look out the window again to see a clearing in the forest outside. There was an enormous willow swaying in the distance, a willow far too large to normally exist. Even after the immense pleasure of seeing Sirius hit in the face, Remus' heart sunk at the realization that he knew _exactly_ why the tree was there.


	4. Choice

**IV. Choice**

The Hogwarts Express had slowed to a stop at last. The same disembodied voice reminded the occupants of the train that they should leave their luggage on board, as their things would taken up to the castle later by magic. Remus was happy to learn that he wouldn't actually have to drag both his and Andromeda's trunks up to the castle, as the Head Girl still hadn't returned.

"I'm starting to regret all those sweets I ate," Lily murmured, as they filed out into the corridor. Remus felt much the same way—still, it was assuring to him that he wasn't the only one with a bad case of nerves, as Lily was now looking faint with terror and Severus' breathing had gone shallow.

Sticking close together proved exceptionally difficult once they'd left the train and joined the mob of students at Hogsmeade Station. Remus, in fact, would have walked off unthinkingly with the rest of the crowd if it weren't for Lily being there to give him a yank him in the right direction.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!"

Just ahead, most of the first years had already converged around an enormous man carrying a lantern. Nobody could seem to stop staring at him—he wasn't scary looking, per say, but the man was still at least three times taller than even the tallest of wizards. Remus felt positively minuscule by comparison.

"Is that a giant?" Lily hissed to Severus.

"Can't be," Severus answered, but he seemed unsure.

"Welcome ter Hogwarts!" the giant of a man said, beaming around at them all. "Don' be scared now, all o' yehs, yer in good hands—"

The giant led the way onward—he moved very quickly for someone of his size, and soon had at least fifty terrified witches and wizards scrambling just to keep up with him. The path they followed eventually came to an abrupt end at the shallows of the Great Lake, and the giant instructed everyone to clamber into a fleet of boats so that they could make the customary crossing. Most others stumbled off on command, but Remus felt compelled to look up—he could see the outline of a massive castle off in the distance, faintly illuminated by moonlight.

"C'mon," Severus muttered, so Remus tore his eyes away long enough to follow his friends into an unoccupied boat. Remus had only just seated himself when the boy from the train reluctantly joined them—he looked as though he would much rather be in any other boat besides the one occupied by Lily Evans, but the others had already been filled up.

"Hi," greeted Lily, but the boy just shrank back in fear. Remus looked at him pityingly.

The giant shouted out that it was time to move—Lily and several others gasped as each pair of oars came to life and began to row the little boats in formation across the lake. Severus stuck his hand in the water to watch the rippling effect it made in the lake's surface but Remus looked up again, this time in the direction of the willow tree from earlier. It reminded him strangely of a guard dog, ready to attack.

"Whoa there! Stop!" commanded the giant, and the fleet abruptly paused.

"Over there!" exclaimed Severus. He pointed to where one of the boats had been impeded in its progress by a giant tentacle, risen out of the water. Remus heard a girl scream in terror as the tentacle moved closer and prodded at her head.

"He's jus' tryin' ter say hello!" said the giant, looking jovial. "Go on, give 'im a shake!"

None of the four first years in the stalled boat seemed eager to do this, so at last a black wizard stood up, his face set. The same girl who had screamed cried out, "don't do it, Kingsley!" but he had already grabbed the end of the tentacle and given it an awkward handshake.

"Wotcher?" said Kingsley. The tentacle shook his hand politely and then waved at them all before sinking back under the water.

"Off we go again!" said the giant, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and the boats moved once more. Remus looked over with amusement at Lily, who smiled her weakest smile yet.

The first years all reached the other side of the lake at the same time, and then they all went slipping and sliding up the sloped edge of the lake, which was covered in smooth pebbles. They appeared to be in a sort of underground harbor, which led them led along a passageway and up to a door at the top of stone steps, where a stern-faced professor brought them inside. She gave them a short speech about Hogwarts' four houses, and asked them to wait patiently for the Sorting process to begin.

"I can do this," Lily whispered. She closed her eyes and began repeating the words to herself like a mantra. "I can do this. I may or may not be about to throw up, but I can do this—"

"You  _can_  do this," Severus assured her, but Remus was struck by a sudden and horrible thought— _what if he couldn't be sorted_? No werewolf had ever come to Hogwarts, so how would the Sorting Hat react to him? Would it turn him away and announce to everyone what he was...?

"But is the Sorting Hat always right, Sev?" Lily asked, pulling at her own hair. "Oh god, what if I get up there and it puts me in the wrong house?"

"The Sorting Hat puts people where they believe they belong," answered Severus. "So it's less that the Hat can be wrong, and more like—"

But his explanation was cut off by the return of the witch from earlier, and now she beckoned the first years to follow her once more. Everyone scurried into a semblance of a a single file line, and then, to Remus' great dismay, a certain someone came sliding in between himself and Lily.

"Evening," said Sirius, with a mouth that twitched like he was struggling to hide a laugh. "I see we meet once again. It must be destiny."

Sirius was obviously trying to redeem himself from the disaster on the train. What surprised Remus, however, was that the mark on his face had all but gone away—either he or James clearly knew some magic already, and now he was reluctantly impressed.

"You've still got a bit of dried blood under your nose," Remus told him smartly.

"I don't believe you," said Sirius, but wiped at his lip anyway.

Lily abruptly turned her head.

"I  _thought_  I heard your voice. Funny, I didn't think you'd be asking me to hit you again so soon, Black."

Thankfully they entered the Great Hall before the situation was able to escalate again, and Sirius now chose to retreat behind James. This didn't do much to separate Sirius and Lily, however, as it turned out that James had been standing behind Remus too. _Wonderful_ , Remus thought. His time at Hogwarts was off to a really great start.

"Hullo," James whispered to him. "No hard feelings?"

Remus didn't answer. He decided to look around the Great Hall instead, which was just as magnificent as it was gigantic. Several hundred Hogwarts sat divided between four tables that spanned the length of the room, and while Remus found himself briefly enchanted just by the sight of a thousand floating candles, the truly marvelous thing about the Great Hall was its ceiling. It was unfortunate, really, that such a beautiful sky of stars would be spoiled by the presence of a waxing crescent moon.

The stern looking witch had set a very dirty hat on top of a stool before the High Table, and Remus supposed this was the Sorting Hat. Everyone applauded obligingly once the hat's song had been sung, but Lily, still just ahead of Remus, seemed to have lost all of her nerve again. She was now back to whispering her mantra: "I can do this, I can do this..."

The Sorting began once the witch came forward once more with a long piece of parchment. She began calling the first years in alphabetical order, and two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff had already been sorted before the first familiar name was called.

"Black, Sirius!"

The Slytherins already had their hands together, preparing their applause for when he would join their table. Remus was amazed that he could feel sorry for Sirius as he shifted out of line—he wanted to be in Gryffindor so very badly, that much was clear, yet he really had no choice in the matter. The Sorting was a reflection of one's heart, and the values instilled in a person by their upbringing—it was not, as Andromeda might put it, a matter of getting into your preferred House out of sheer stubbornness.

Come to think of it, Remus saw that Andromeda Black was standing up at the end of the Slytherin table, fondly surveying her cousin. Beside her, sitting down, was a haughty looking boy with white-blond hair and a prefect badge. Looking down the Slytherin table, Remus noticed that many of them carried a similar air—like they were all very full of themselves and believed others to be beneath them.

Even Sirius couldn't help but glance nervously at the Slytherin table. His face looked as green as their ties just before disappearing under the Sorting Hat.

They were kept waiting for a long time. Remus had learned from his father that some people simply took longer to decide upon than others, but after seeing the first few sorted in less than ten seconds each, four minutes now seemed like ages. At one point the Sorting Hat's mouth ripped open wide but then closed again, seeming to wrinkle with puzzlement. The Slytherins were fooled—the white-blond boy even put his hands together once before realizing that the hat hadn't said anything. Professor Dumbledore—whom Remus recognized from the time he had personally visited the Lupin household last spring—leaned forward in his seat with interest.

Silence ensued for several more thoughtful seconds, and then—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Sirius nearly fell off the stool. James might've hissed with pleasure from behind Remus, but several Slytherin jaws had fallen open, and even Andromeda had gasped. None of Sirius' limbs seemed to work properly anymore as he staggered off to the Gryffindor table.

"She _did_ say Black, didn't she?"

"That can't be right..."

Only a scattered, reluctant clapping broke out, rather than the polite applause everyone else had recieved. Remus looked around wildly—the Slytherins, even those whose mouths remained shut, all looked like they'd been slapped across the face, and even the Gryffindors looks scandalized that an intruder had just sat down with them. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, seated both to the left and right of the line of first years, had their eyes darting back and forth between the tables on either end of the room. Professor Dumbledore alone seemed amused by the Hat's decision—the rest of the staff looked rattled.

The stern witch at last took control of the situation by calling out for the next student. Whispers about Sirius Black continued clear until "Evans, Lily" was called.

Lily stumbled out of line and quivered the entire way up to the stool. The Sorting Hat took no time at all before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Severus let out a groan of disappoinment as Lily looked back at him with a sad smile. She went to join the Gryffindors, and Sirius, though looking ghostly pale at the moment, had the presence of mind to move down the bench to make room for her. Lily couldn't have been less thankful for this, though, and glared at him before casting her gaze determinedly the other way.

It was Remus' turn before long. He looked to the Ravenclaw table as he left the line of first years, glad that they at least looked like a generally more decent group of people than the Slytherins. Remus sat down gingerly on the stool, and the stern looking witch gave him a look that implied she knew Remus' story quite well before dropping the hat onto his head.

The Sorting Hat fell over Remus' eyes, obscuring the Great Hall and the attentive faces of the student body from view. Perhaps they had seen the witch's expression and were waiting for another surprise.

"Ah," a voice mused in his ear. "A werewolf, eh? The very first at Hogwarts, you know! Lucky child, you are… though two minds in one will certainly make this difficult…"

Remus panicked as he imagined for a moment that everyone in the Great Hall had just heard the Sorting Hat's comments, but then he forced himself to remember that the hat had never once said such things out loud.

"Oh no, I'd never tell your secrets, boy, don't worry…"

Remus was a bit startled to realize the hat was reading his thoughts with perfect clarity, but then again, this did make sense. Surely no lesser hat could be entrusted with the task of Sorting.

 _I don't want to be in Slytherin_ , Remus thought as loud as he could, though he'd never tried to think loudly before. Even if Severus was Sorted into it, he had a feeling that the other Slytherins would never accept him.

"Of course not," said the hat. "You simply wouldn't belong there, would you now? Hm... always a sad thing to see, this is, a child already so exhausted by the world— quite fed up with toiling, aren't are? Far from the makings of a Hufflepuff."

Remus did not even begin to defend himself on this point. The last seven years of his life had certainly drained him of Hufflepuff-ish virtues...

"So what will it be then, child? Ravenclaw? Or Gryffindor…?"

Remus didn't really care either way. He was smart, he knew that much—he was always reading, always imagining, always pursing new knowledge. He was also never quite satisfied unless he was dreaming up the next big task he could potentially take on, like designing another tree house he could never build because his parents didn't trust him more than a meter off the ground. He loved these things, of course, or else he wouldn't do them all the time. Right?

Certainly not. Remus knew the truth—that he'd only taken to intellectual pursuits because he hated the mindless beast he became once a month. He'd only kept to himself because he had no friends, no companions, no playmates that would ever accept him for who he was. No one even liked him, aside from his scared mum and dad, and they had taught him to live a life of misery for his own protection... 

 _I just want to be normal_ , Remus announced in his thoughts. _A_ _nd more than anything, I want to have friends._

"A fine ambition," commended the hat. It cried loudly to the Great Hall at last, "GRYFFINDOR!"


	5. The Divide

**V. The Divide**

Remus' eyes were watering as he lifted the Sorting Hat from his head. His fellow Gryffindors cheered loudly for him, though perhaps Remus simply imagined the excess enthusiasm—he turned to the High Table for a moment, feeling eyes on the back of his head, and caught Professor Dumbledore nodding his approval.

Remus almost skipped on his way to join the Gryffindor table.

"What'd it say to you?" Lily was so eager to ask that she must not have realized this was a rather personal question. "I was surprised, myself—who would've thought I'd ever impress a  _hat_  with a sense of right and wrong?"

"It didn't say anything to me I didn't already know," Remus answered her, truthfully, and returned his attention to the line of first years, where Severus and James now stood without anyone to separate them.

The line of first years had dwindled significantly by the time the witch reached the last names beginning with 'P'. Immediately before James, a boy named Peter Pettigrew—who turned out to be the boy from the train earlier—was sorted into Gryffindor after another long stall. Lily and Remus shook Peter's hand as he joined their table, though it would be more accurate to say that Peter's entire arm quaked uncontrollably rather than shaking back. Then it was James' turn, and Lily let out a wail of disgust when the Sorting Hat put him into Gryffindor as well.

"Well done, mate," James said to Sirius, sliding past Lily like she didn't exist. Sirius still had a look on his face like non-existence would actually be preferable to his current circumstances. "Er... mate? You  _did_  want to be in Gryffindor, didn't you?"

"I do!" Sirius answered croakily. "I just...  _I didn't think it could really happen_!"

"Me neither," Lily said under her breath, though Remus' snickers were cut short when he noticed "Snape, Severus" about to be sorted.

"Gryffindor, Gryffindor," Lily chanted, crossing her fingers.

"He's going to be in Slytherin," James said dully, and a mere second later the Sorting Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

"YOU JINXED HIM!" Lily roared.

"Lily," Remus said, placatingly, "I don't think you can just  _say_  something and it'll happen…"

He realized a moment too late that he'd just suggested there was no such thing as magic.

"He's waving his wand under the table then!" Lily ducked underneath to check but James had already put his hands up in the air.

"No magic," he said, grinning. "Just luck."

While it hadn't come as a surprise to anyone, Severus still seemed upset that he was the only one Sorted into Slytherin while Remus and Lily had both gone to Gryffindor. Remus watched with regret as Severus slumped off to his table.

Finally, a girl whose last name started with 'Y' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and the witch took the stool and Sorting Hat away. Professor Dumbledore stood up to say a few short words of greeting, then clapped his hands and summoned a lavish feast onto each of the house tables. Remus, finally feeling hungry again, boldly tried a little of everything that his parents rarely—or never—let him have, meaning that he took extra helpings of chips in particular and bit into them dreamily.

"Ah, grease," James said, spearing a banger with his fork. "Nothing like it."

Sirius was eating with far less gusto than the others—Remus guessed that he was probably quite unimpressed such a banquets anyway, considering he was a Black. The older Gryffindors were now throwing Sirius even more sideways looks, perhaps thinking along these same lines.

"Good thing Mum isn't here, she'd  _never_  let me eat like this," said Lily, apparently quite thrilled to have gravy all over her mouth. "She's a neat freak."

"Is that just the way Muggles are?" asked Remus. His own mother was a very clean person herself.

"Oh no," Lily said with a giggle. "Just my mum. Petunia's like that... too..."

She trailed off, face falling. Remus frowned.

"Who's Petunia?"

"My older sister," Lily said softly, and she noticed that Remus was now looking all over for a girl who might be related to her. "No, she's a Muggle. You wouldn't recognize her even if she was here, she doesn't look a thing like me…"

"Is that who 'Tuney' is?" James asked around a mouthful of potatoes. "The girl who hates you right now?"

"We're not even talking to you, Potter," Lily snapped. "Why are you listening in on our conversation?"

"Because we Gryffindors have got to stick together, obviously! All for one and one for all and all of that other brave sounding stuff that's full of high adventure, you know…"

Sirius finally laughed again, though Lily continued to look deeply disgusted with them. Remus, however, thought it was too bad that Lily and her sister were evidently not on good terms—he would have welcomed a sibling to have grown up with, personally.

Supper disappeared eventually from everyone's plates, replaced with an assortment of puddings. Remus' mouth watered again—this gave him an even better opportunity to indulge in everything he wasn't supposed to.

"I bet Snivellus is going for the doughnuts over there," said Sirius, helping himself to a slice of pie. "He could hang one on his nose, I s'pect?"

"That's exactly how it gets so oily," James said sagely. Lily took the opportunity to hit Sirius some more but Remus whipped around instead, horrified that he'd already managed to forget about Severus entirely. However, it seemed that Severus was now in conversation with the prefect next to him and wasn't concerned with what went on at the Gryffindor table at all. Remus guiltily wondered if maybe Severus had been trying to catch either his or Lily's attention before, but had long since given up...

Finally, once the first years had requested their yearly demonstration of what made Nearly Headless Nick nearly headless, and all the Gryffindors in general must have gained at least five pounds, pudding disappeared from everyone's tables as well. The Great Hall fell silent as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet to address the room once more.

Remus listened as best he could, taking in instructions that magic was not to be used to between classes, that entry to the Forbidden Forest was just as a forbidden as the name might have implied, and that Quidditch tryouts would be beginning within a few weeks (James was saying, "Damn, if only first years could play—"). He was feeling rather tired now, though, and the wolfish side of him wanted to go curl up and go to sleep, right then and there.

"The next matter of importance we must discuss," Dumbledore said, "it that a new tree has been planted on our grounds this year, appropriately called the Whomping Willow. While you will certainly not be required to go near the Willow at any time, please mind that you stay well outside its reach if you do choose to be in the surrounding area, as your safety cannot be otherwise guaranteed. Finally—"

The explanation had ended there. Remus glanced around, noticing that most students were doing the same, probably all thinking something very similar:  _why have they planted it then?_

"Very well!" Dumbledore cried. "Off to bed now, all of you. Every one of us has an exciting day in store tomorrow, I'm sure…"

Benches groaned in protest as the student body rose collectively from their seats and followed the prefects in the direction of their dorms. Sirius and James were laughing again somewhere up ahead; Lily rolled her eyes dramatically. Remus was in the very back of the group, yawning widely.

"You there… first year."

Someone had tapped Remus on the shoulder—he stopped and turned around, robes whipping about his ankles. A crowd of Slytherins had caught up to them just as Gryffindor House had been about to exit the Great Hall.

"Hello," said the white-blond prefect gently. Most of the Slytherins paused behind him, though Remus noticed that Andromeda pressed onward, unaware of the prefect's actions.

"Hello," Remus answered, uncertainly. Severus was standing at the prefect's side, but he did not return Remus' attempt at a smile.

"So. Welcome to Hogwarts," the prefect went on, simpering, and seemed quite unbothered that he was causing confusion for everyone involved. "I'm sure this school will be quite to your liking. Seems we truly are taking in all sorts now..."

Remus felt the color draining from his face.

"Lucius," Andromeda called, backtracking a bit, "what are you doing?"

"Just saying hello to a first year," the prefect said quickly, and he and the other Slytherins began to move again. Severus wore an unreadable expression, and swept by Remus without speaking to him.

Remus tore his way up the stairs to find his fellow Gryffindors again. His mind didn't stop racing long after he'd caught up—how much did that prefect know?  _How_  could he have known?  _What had he told Severus_ …?

"Where were you?" Lily asked, spotting Remus.

"I'm—terrible with directions. Got lost," Remus lied. Remus felt sick with worry all over again as he fell into step with the rest of the group, but Lily reached out to take his hand despite not possibly understanding.

"Stick with me then," Lily told him, and Remus gave her hand a squeeze. He would have to hope against hope that the prefect knew less than he'd hinted...

Once in the common room, not a single first year was eager to stay up to take in their new surroundings. Instead they opted to head off immediately to their dormitories, yawning and dragging their feet—you might've thought the Sorting had been a physically exhausting process, such as requiring them all to run laps to determine their Houses. Lily went up to the girls' dormitory on the right, the boys went up to the dormitory on the left, and Remus found his bed among the others on the top floor. Seeing this handsome four poster made up with red and gold blankets for the first time made the experience feel oddly all the more real—perhaps Remus really belonged here after all, considering a place had been made for him all his own.

"Nice set up we have here," declared James, and swiftly captured all the boys within reach under his arms—this happened to be Sirius, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew. "Well! We Gryffindors are going to be best friends, I can just tell."

The uninvolved Gryffindors raised their eyebrows at one another, but otherwise chose not to comment as they unpacked their nightclothes.

"I'm all for it, so long as my mum doesn't murder me first," Sirius muttered.

"I'm tired," said Peter.

"We are  _never_  going to be friends," said Remus, bluntly.

"Such warm and fuzzy feelings from this one in particular," James teased, but he released him, and Remus made for his trunk. Hidden inside, right on top of his neatly folded pajamas, was a note written in an unfamiliar handwriting.

_Mr. Lupin—_

_Madam Pomfrey and I request to see you in the Infirmary, first thing in the morning, to discuss an obvious matter. Have a pleasant evening._

Remus looked up from his trunk. James Potter was humming to himself as he removed his glasses, like some sort of eccentric who actually enjoyed making a fool of himself. Sirius Black was lying numbly on his bed—a bed that was mostly likely a fourth the size of what he was used to—and stared fixedly at the ceiling, perhaps considering how much time he had left.

Remus crumpled the letter in his fist. He hoped that these two idiots in particular never  _ever_  found out his secret.

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Notes: Remus Lupin  
> I wrote some commentary on my portrayals of TWSBB's characters in the past, so why not regather my thoughts and share them again?
> 
> Choosing Remus as the viewpoint character was one of the easiest decisions I had to make for this story. Pottermore describes the young Remus as the kind and quietly humorous sort, and the most conscientious of the Marauders—I didn't have this exact description in mind when first writing TWSBB in 2009, but these characteristics made him an easy fit for my natural style of writing. Remus has flaws too, of course: he likes to be liked, in Rowling's words, and has experienced so much prejudice and isolation in his life that he severely compromises his own desires and resorts to dishonesty for the sake of protecting his relationships with others. I also feel he has anxious tendencies, and frankly finds it easier to drift along in misery than risk greater suffering (his least Gryffindor-ish quality).
> 
> Let's talk about some common fandom interpretations of Remus and which ones I agree with. First, I do consider him an introvert, meaning that he is most happy with a small number of friends he can trust deeply (I don't think a desire to be generally liked by others conflicts with this). I also think he's quite intelligent, but more so in the sense that he is wise beyond his years—his consistently high marks in school were the result of both intellect and strong focus on his studies. He's much too happy to be allowed to learn magic to slack off!
> 
> What I don't agree with is the image of Remus being poor even in his younger days and wearing nothing but frumpy, worn-out clothes (particularly jumpers). I see no reason why his parents couldn't have provided for him in the past, and besides, it's hard for me to believe Remus wouldn't have tried to be even a LITTLE fashionable in his teenage years. I realize I have the benefit of Pottermore to tell me this now, but I think the old clothes only came along once Remus was living in poverty, refusing to rely on his father's support into adulthood.
> 
> Remus and his fondness for chocolate is a tired idea to me at this point, too. I realize that being a chocolate lover is an adorable trait, but really I think Remus carried chocolate with him during PoA for practical reasons (ie the Dementors). In this story, I ended up using Remus' relationship with sweets as a bit of a metaphor for his relationships with people, I guess: sure, having none at all would technically pose the least amount of risk, but he's missing out on life that way.
> 
> Finally, while bookish Remus is an extremely common depiction, my interpretation is a variation on this theme. I don't actually think he's the sort who would read a lot of sophisticated old books and artful poetry—he's just spent a lot of his life trying to live vicariously through books, so he favors contemporary novels that can provide entertainment over pure literary value. Now, eventually I reveal that Remus knows a fair amount of Latin (he is also somewhat familiar with Ancient Greek), but he didn't teach himself Latin just because he's a giant nerd. The truth is that Latin is the primary language of modern magic, and Remus became interested in the subject because he assumed he would never be allowed to study magic in a formal manner. Allow me to reiterate that he once had a LOT of time on his hands.
> 
> One last note: personally I wish Remus could have done a better job keeping in touch with Harry in the books, but I assumed from this that Remus knew providing for Harry either emotionally or financially would be all but impossible for him (and the last thing he wanted was to cause Harry disappointment). Remus in TWSBB seeks emotional connections more eagerly, but I'm certain that the trauma of losing each of his school friends in a single blow must have traumatized him. I can hardly blame him if this event left him feeling that he shouldn't risk growing close to people again like he once allowed himself to.


	6. Five Birthdays

**V½: Letters from Hogwarts**

The day of Remus' eleventh birthday was far more eventful than anticipated: there came a rhythmic knock on the Lupins' front door right in the middle of breakfast, and Mrs. Lupin volunteered herself to go answer it while Mr. Lupin finished buttering a crumpet for Remus.

Moments later, a scream issued from the front room. Mr. Lupin ordered Remus to stay right where he was and Disapparated out—Remus, however, could hardly resist leaving his chair and flattening himself to the wall nearest to the hallway. He listened in with a pounding heart.

"There's a w-wizard standing out there!" Mrs. Lupin stammered. "R-robes and hat and everything—"

" _Shit._ " Remus rarely heard his father curse; he knew instantly that this was a serious matter. "This can't be happening—no one should have found us—"

"Do you think—oh no—he could be here for  _Remus_ —"

"I  _am_  here for Remus," called a pleasant voice. "This is the Lupins' home, yes?"

"What do you want from us?" Mr. Lupin demanded, now speaking through the door. "I don't care who you are, you won't hurt my son—"

"I have no such intention. I am Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts. I've come to invite Mr. Remus Lupin to attend our school, if he would like to accept my offer. May I come in?"

"What?"

 _Crack_. The wizard had Apparated into the house. Mrs. Lupin screamed again.

"I must apologize for my rudeness," said the wizard, bowing his head. "I'm normally a far more courteous person, I assure you, but you were about to use an Imperturbable Charm, were you not? With the practice you must have, Mr. Lupin, I was afraid I would not be able to match the strength of it with my own counter-charm."

"If you're truly Albus Dumbledore," said Mr. Lupin fiercely, "and you are as powerful a wizard as they say, then I have no doubt you could have managed it."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Ah, did I see the younger Mr. Lupin in the hallway just now?"

Remus skittered back out of sight.

" _Sir_ ," Mr. Lupin tried again, "I'm sure you understand why my wife and I find it hard to believe that you've actually come to—"

"Yes, I  _do_  understand, but what I have here—and I hope you will examine it very closely, if you are still unconvinced—is Remus' letter of admittance to Hogwarts. My predecessor may have felt differently on the matter, but I am of the belief that any young wizard deserves the chance of an education.  _Every_  young wizard—even if he may happen be a werewolf."

"Are you really the headmaster?" asked Mrs. Lupin, in a tiny voice.

"I most certainly am."

"You're not serious about this?" asked Mr. Lupin.

"Quite serious. Would you permit me to speak to your son?"

Remus' parents took a few moment to deliberate, though perhaps they had already realized there wasn't any stopping a wizard like Albus Dumbledore. Mrs. Lupin called out for Remus, who hastily straightened his clothes before presenting himself.

"Hello, Mr. Remus Lupin," said Dumbledore, extending his hand. He was an old wizard, his hair and beard both very long, and he wore the sort of distinguished robes that Remus had never once seen his father in. "I hope you'll forgive me for giving you and your family a fright."

"You're forgiven," said Remus. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shaken hands with a person—had he ever?

"Thank you very much, Remus. May I call you that?"

"Yes." Remus met Dumbledore's gaze shyly. "You really want me to come to Hogwarts? I'm allowed?"

"Why ever would it not be allowed?" Dumbledore spoke as if he honestly could not think of a single reason. "I won't force you to go, Remus, as I know the prospect must seem daunting—but I think it would be a awful shame if you never had the opportunity, don't you?"

Remus could not have expressed what he felt just then with words. Remus J. Lupin, werewolf since the age of four, might still yet go to Hogwarts...

"It's not only up to him," said Mr. Lupin. Mrs. Lupin nodded vigorously. "We'll need to hear the details of your plan before we could even begin to consider it, Mr. Headmaster."

"Yes, yes, the details—I quite agree. Let's sit down and have a chat then, shall we?" Dumbledore surveyed the room around him, smiling serenely. "Ah! Remus, you wouldn't happen to be a fan of gobstones would you?"

It seemed he'd spotted the gobstone board still set up on the table. Remus looked down at his feet.

"I usually play by myself."

"Really? All by yourself? Well, would you care to have someone join you as your pupil? I've never had much skill at the game, I'm afraid—"

 

* * *

 

"Peter, Peter, come here!"

Peter pushed back his chair and came at once. As soon as he rounded the corner, he saw that his mother had burst into tears, and his father was cradling a letter in his hands like it was something very precious to them all.

"Peter," Mr. Pettigrew said, wetly, "this is your acceptance letter to Hogwarts."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew looked at Peter as though expecting him to start jumping up and down. Peter could only stare uncomprehendingly.

"Hog-whats?" he asked.

"Oh, that's right!" sobbed Mrs. Pettigrew, and she came forward to throw her arms around her son. "Oh Peter, we didn't want to get your hopes up… we never told you!"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," explained Mr. Pettigrew kindly. "It's the school where your mother and I learned how to do magic."

"It's a school?" Peter asked, frowning. Peter's parents had been telling him for at least a year now that he would be learning to use a wand at home, once he began showing proper magic ability. But Peter _did_ have magical ability, and he'd known that for a long time, it was just that he'd only very recently shown he could do any in front of his parents...

"Yes. It's a school for witches and wizards… everyone gets their letter on their eleventh birthday, and—well, this proves it, doesn't it? You aren't a Squib at all!

"I can't believe it," Mrs. Pettigrew cried. "Off to Hogwarts...!"

His parents were clearly both happy for him, but Peter could only return a frozen smile. He felt that he'd only barely gotten over the shock of being an age with two digits, yet now he knew that his parents had been keeping an enormous secret from him all this time. Had they really felt so certain that Peter was a Squib, or very near to one? Knowing what his parents felt about Squibs, they must have been deeply ashamed of him until now.

It would be a long time before Peter could bring himself to feel entirely happy about this news.

 

* * *

 

Lily Evans was not at all surprised to have received her letter, though her parents certainly were. Mrs. Evans fainted dead away when she heard her daughter was a witch, and Mr. Evans opened and closed his mouth several times before declaring it all to be a prank.

"Oh no, I assure you it isn't a prank," said the cheery Ministry witch who had come to explain the wizarding world to the Evans. "I could show you a bit of magic, if you like, to prove it to you."

And once the witch had turned one of their armchairs into a goat and then back again, Mr. and Mrs. Evans decided they believed her.

"Oh Lily, isn't this exciting?" Mrs. Evans had said, fanning herself, willing herself not to pass out again. "We always knew you were different… now we know why!"

"I already knew I was a witch," admitted Lily.

"You did? However did you know, dear?"

"That boy told her!" blurted Petunia, from the corner. She had never been so ignored by her parents in her life and now wore a look of fury.

"What boy?" asked Mr. Evans.

"Just a wizard boy," Lily grumbled, and shot Petunia a look that silenced her.

 

* * *

 

Sirius was the last to arrive downstairs on the morning of his eleventh birthday.

"We've been waiting twenty minutes," said a much displeased Mr. Black, checking his watch. He was in his finest robes, the set that was all black with mossy green trim.

"S-sorry." Sirius meant to come sooner, but then he'd gotten all tangled up in his stupid dress robes and couldn't find his way out. He didn't understand why he'd been asked to wear them to breakfast in the first place, it wasn't like it mattered…

"No matter," said Mrs. Black. She pulled out the chair at the end of the table—the one usually reserved for Mr. Black—and Sirius sat down quickly, understanding the symbolic importance of this.

"Happy Birthday, Sirius," Mrs. Black said. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and smoothed his neatly trimmed hair.

"Happy Birthday," Regulus chirped.

"Happy Birthday," said Mr. Black.

"Thanks," said Sirius, but without any feeling.

Mr. Black ordered Kreacher to bring breakfast. The house-elf began magicking food-laden dishes onto the table and the others were allowed to fill their plates only once Sirius had chosen what he liked. For several minutes there was only the quiet clatter of silverware on china, everyone eating without a word.

"Your letter came today," said Mrs. Black.

"And a fine Slytherin you'll make," said Mr. Black, drinking deeply from his goblet. "Won't you?"

"Right," said Sirius. He took an unnecessarily large bite out of a muffin to keep himself from saying something to contrary.

"We'll be having guests over this evening, naturally. For your birthday party."

 _Guests_ , Sirius assumed, would primarily include Mr. and Mrs. Black's adult friends, and a great number of distant and unpleasant relatives. Andromeda would be invited too, of course, but had already demonstrated her ingenuity in escaping engagements such as these in the past. Sirius felt distinctly proud of her for it.

"I asked our cousins already about bringing their brooms," announced Regulus, apparently trying to make up for the enthusiasm missing in the voices of their parents. "We haven't got enough room in the back garden to play Qudditich, and Mum said Shuntbumps would be too rowdy, but Swivenhodge should be okay!"

"Just mind that another game of _flaming_ Swivenhodge will not be allowed."

"Er—right," said Sirius.

"Too bad we haven't got enough room for racing either—I really wanted to see how fast the new broom is, too—"

"Regulus darling," purred Mrs. Black, "don't go spoiling your brother's gifts, now."

"Oh! Sorry."

Once everyone had eaten, and Kreacher had vanished their plates into the kitchen for washing, Mrs. Black now looked expectantly to her husband.

"Eleventh birthdays are very important in the Black family, Sirius," Mr. Black began, for what must have been the tenth time since yesterday. "Knowing that you have been accepted to Hogwarts, today is the day that we will formally name you as heir to the House of Black. Now, with your…" Mr. Black paused to wave his hand, searching for the proper word. "Recent behavior, your mother and I have had our doubts, but we're certain this is only a phase. Am I correct, Sirius?"

"Right," said Sirius.

"Orion, now would be an appropriate time to have him open his first gift, I think."

"Oh yes. Now would be an excellent time. Kreacher?"

Kreacher was already one step ahead of them. He waited silently at the legs of Mr. Black's chair, holding in his withered hands what appeared to be a slim wooden chest.

"Something the matter?" snarled Mr. Black. "Deliver it to him!"

The house-elf nodded silently and scurried over to Sirius instead. Kreacher lifted the chest, and Sirius took it from him before his father could complain that he was wasting more of his time.

"Thank you, it's lovely," said Sirius, more mechanically than ever. The chest was built from a dark wood and decorated with delicate carvings—Sirius thought that it might be useful for hiding some of his Slytherin themed things so he wouldn't have to look at them every day, in any event.

"What are you thanking us for already? We haven't given you a box. Open it, Sirius."

Sirius fumbled at the lock, and was quite impressed to find that inside the velvet lined chest was a beautiful, ancient-looking wand, its handle encrusted with diamonds. He'd never seen such a gorgeous thing in his life—was this the wand his parents wanted him to use at Hogwarts?

"You aren't to use it," Mrs. Black said, answering this question at once. "But it's yours now, as it was once your father's. This wand has been in our family for forty generations."

"Who's wand was it?" Sirius breathed.

"It is believed that it belonged to Sirius Black the First, your ancestor," Mr. Black said. "He was one of the very first Ministers of Magic, and it is said that he enjoyed the privilege of using this wand himself while carrying out the executions of Mudbloods. A common practice at the time, something that perhaps ought to have continued…"

"No fair!" cried Regulus, bouncing in his seat. "Mum, why don't _I_ ever get anything cool like that—?"

"Be _quiet_ , dear," Mrs. Black said, and Regulus went silent but still visibly vibrated on his chair.

"How do you like it, Sirius?" asked Mr. Black.

"It's great," said Sirius, a muscle working in his jaw. He had a terrible feeling that today would not be a good day.

 

* * *

 

"Mum! It's my letter from Hogwarts!"

Mrs. Potter gasped. Mr. Potter dropped his newspaper.

"We all knew it'd be coming today," said Mr. Potter, hastily picking the Daily Prophet back off the kitchen floor, but he still looked quite proud.

"Let me see it, dear," said Mrs. Potter, bustling over to his side. James handed her the letter and watched his mother smile as she read it over.

"Well!" she said. "Looks like we've got ourselves another Gryffindor in the making!"

"You really think I'll be in Gryffindor?"

"Of course you will," said Mr. Potter. "The Potter family's been in Gryffindor for generations."

James beamed with pleasure.

"We'll be needing to buy your school things soon, in any case, before the prices all rocket up in summer," Mrs. Potter said. She had always been very frugal, even though the Potter family had quite enough wealth not to worry about it.

"Could we go today, Mum?" James asked excitedly.

"Oh, honey, it's your birthday today, you don't really want to spend the day shopping, do you?"

"We can go today if he likes," said Mr. Potter. "I'm sure he'll be wanting his wand, I know I did. And how about we get him his own owl as well? It's about time we got him one."

"An owl? Cool!"

"Just so long as you'll write to us occasionally," Mr. Potter added, with a bit of a grin.

"You know I will, Dad," James promised, and he meant it.


	7. Not Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stumbled across something truly terrible today: a list of full moon nights which occurred from 1971 to 1978. Naturally the very next thing I did was compare these full moon nights with the nights I specifically mention in this story (4 times total). As expected, each of these arbitrarily chosen nights were COMPLETELY WRONG. I mean of course they'd be COMPLETELY WRONG considering I did not try in the slightest and chose the path of maximum drama over accuracy, but a 100% failure rate is funny to me nonetheless.

**VI. Not Yet**

It was now the tenth of March, and good weather had abruptly returned to the school grounds after two months of snow and frostbitten hands. While most everyone was happy about this, it also meant that the professors were now in better spirits and gaily gave twice the homework as they had before. It was a good thing that Remus rather enjoyed doing schoolwork, or it would have been unbearable.

Remus was twelve years old as of today. He was sure that one's birthday was a big to-do for most people, but Remus' birthdays had rarely been spectacular, and this year had certainly not broken the tradition. The only way today was different from any other was that he had woken up with some presents at his bedside table, and some of the first year boys had wished him a happy birthday when they realized what they must be there for. He'd received new clothes for the warm months ahead and some additional spending money from his parents. He also unwrapped a fancy telescope from a rich aunt who seemed sympathetic and yet too afraid to meet him in person, and a box of candy from Lily Evans.

Once finished opening them, Remus had simply tucked his gifts away and gone downstairs to finish his homework. It was a Sunday, after all, and classes would begin again tomorrow.

Aside from now being twelve, Remus had brown hair, brown eyes, an exceptionally small stature, and a lycanthropy problem. Every full moon, this now twelve years old body of his would change into a fearsome beast that preyed upon human beings—he was a werewolf, in other words, and Remus could not have dreamed of attending Hogwarts if not for Professor Dumbledore recently becoming headmaster.

Of course, for the majority of each lunar cycle, Remus was just an average first year. He had discovered thus far that he was clearly not cut out for broomstick riding—his first attempt had been disastrous—but he still enjoyed every class (aside from History of Magic) and learning how to do new things with his wand. After the initial bout of homesickness and sleepless nights, he was even beginning to like not being looked after quite so closely.

Sadly, this happy side of his Hogwarts experience was not the entire story: months into his school career, Remus still struggled with his social life. He knew going in that making friends wouldn't be easy for someone who never had one his whole life, but it still might have been easier if people didn't so often take a single look at Remus and quickly move away. Remus still bore reminders of a year old accident on his face, after all, and also acquired some new scratches with each full moon, but this alone couldn't explain why so many people chose to avoid him.

Rumors were circulating around the school, that much was for certain. He sometimes caught people whispering about him behind their hands—particularly the Slytherins—and as of a few weeks ago, Severus Snape had stopped talking to him entirely. It was most likely Lucius Malfoy who fueled these rumors, though perhaps he knew less details than he'd initally let on, as Remus had not yet caught wind of a consistent story.

Regardless of what Lucius had done or what his intentions were, he had definitely succeeded in making Remus feel depressed. To finally be noticed and yet purposefully ignored at the same time… that basically made him an outcast, didn't it?

The only person who remained the ever-friendly companion to Remus was the Muggle-born Lily Evans, who was a very pretty redhead, but a little odd in her own way. Lily's humorous tendency to sock anyone who made her angry had earned her a number of friends, though, and Remus couldn't bare the thought of asking her to devote more time to him.

And so Remus was forced to make do with only the most casual of connections with his schoolmates, and secretly enjoyed things like being assigned a partner in class or when someone occasionally asked to borrow some parchment. Remus knew that he was indeed taking one step forward and two steps back as far as this whole 'learning to interact with other human beings' business, but he also could not help thinking that a more distant friend was less likely to notice when he grew sick on a regular basis and could not attend class. And he would truly rather keep what he had with Lily, rather than losing her entirely like he had with Severus.

Remus was far from concerned with socializing just at this moment, though, and had his face hovering over his Transfiguration essay as he reread it for clarity. Normally the common room was a poor choice for anyone interested in quiet, but an enticing breeze coming in through the tower windows had apparently forced most other Gryffindors outside to enjoy the weather.

"Remus, do you remember what you'd use snake fangs for?"

Lily had come down from the girls' dormitory, holding a test review sheet in her hands. Remus was surprised that she had not gone with everyone else, but then again, Lily was not the average, lackadaisical student.

"Er," Remus answered. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember what exactly it was that Professor Slughorn had written on the board when they had first used snake fangs toward the beginning of the year. "I… think they're used in a lot of remedies, like curing boils, but I might be thinking of horned toads. I need to look that up myself when I get to it."

"That doesn't make much sense though," said Lily. "Wouldn't snake fangs be used in poisons?"

"Maybe they are," Remus said, but he was almost certain that it was the other way around.

Lily gave her review sheet another look and rolled up the parchment.

"Well it isn't  _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , obviously, so I guess this means a trip to the library. Thanks anyway, Remus, and Happy Birthday again."

"Thanks," Remus responded sulkily, and watched with a sigh as Lily exited through the portrait hole. Now he wished more than ever that he could just put his books down and go fraternize with the other Gryffindors—but alas, he was rather short on people to fraternize with.

"I'm pretty sure you were right about the snake fangs."

Another person had not gone outside, and this turned out to be the mousy-haired Peter Pettigrew. He stood there with a rather mousy look on his face, too, his exceptionally pointed nose twitching in the direction that Lily had gone.

"Don't do that!" Remus sputtered, straightening back up after nearly falling out of his seat. There was something about having an enormous secret weighing on him that made him jumpy at times.

"Sorry," Peter said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Don't worry," Remus grumbled. Peter was one of those people who seemed to have a genetic disposition of not having friends, much like Remus. He also had a knack for appearing suddenly when you least expected it.

"Can I sit?" Peter asked, gesturing to an armchair next to the table.

"I don't mind."

Peter dropped into the chair and set about gazing intently at Remus, who now looked sideways at the wall. There was nothing distinctly wrong with Peter, but Remus didn't care to associate with someone who always seemed to be observing others at a distance. The last thing he needed in another person was a keen sense of observation, thank you.

"You seem to really get along with Evans," said Peter.

"What does  _that_  mean?"

"I dunno. It's just… well, she's pretty popular."

"And?"

"I don't mean anything by that," Peter said vaguely, shaking his head. "It's just… what's she doing, hanging out with  _him?_ "

"What?" Remus asked. He was now extremely confused. "Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about. Severus Snape."

Remus frowned at him.

"Lily and Severus were friends before they came to Hogwarts," he said. He wasn't quite sure what Peter was trying to get at, but was already starting to wish he hadn't brought it up.

"That's odd," said Peter. "Isn't Evans a Muggle-born?"

"Yes."

"Huh. I wonder how they got to know each other. Muggle-borns aren't usually friends with Slytherin types, you know. Goes against the grain and everything."

"I don't quite understand it myself. She spends more time with him than me, and half the time they don't even seem to get along—"

"Are you jealous of him, then?"

Remus deliberately turned away from Peter in his chair.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to offend you, honest, I'm just trying to make sense of things. Can't ever keep my mouth shut, either…"

"Peter," Remus grumbled impatiently, "was there something you wanted to tell me, or can I get back to—?"

"Well, er," Peter mumbled, twisting his hands. "Oh. That's right. James and Sirius told me that they were going to go dump a load of ink on the next person to pass down the fourth floor corridor."

Remus snapped his head back around.

"The library's on the fourth floor," he said.

"That's true," Peter agreed. "I was thinking that we should probably go save Evans."

Remus had never thrown down a quill in a panic before, but then again, he had never been required to act so quickly before, either. Without a word, both boys bolted across the Gryffindor common room, tumbled out the portrait hole, then thundered down the the first flight of steps they could find. Peter ran sloppily, like a city boy who had never used his legs, but Remus hastened along like an animal, tearing down stairs and around corners with his lungs fit to burst.

"Oi!"

Someone had flung out an arm so suddenly that Remus probably would have been decapitated if he'd kept running at top speed. Only Peter managed to stumble past.

"Where are you off to, Mr. Lupin?"

Lucius Malfoy stood there with his nose in the air and his blond hair pulled back. Remus had a feeling he had much more to say to him than a telling off for running in the halls—Peter looked back helplessly, but Remus nodded at him to continue on with the rescue mission without him.

"We were—going to the library."

"The library? And I suppose there's a book in there worth the trouble of chasing after before it gets away?"

Lucius Malfoy was extremely scary for being only a fifth year. He approached Remus threateningly, who could do nothing but back away until Malfoy had him cornered against the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Malfoy leaned downward—there was a height difference of at least a meter between them—and he spoke in a voice that was just as soft as it was venomous.

"Listen here, Lupin," he warned. "Don't think I don't know about you. Professor Slughorn hinted the truth to me in private at the end of last year."

Remus bit his lip. So he  _did_  know?

"Luckily for you," Malfoy sneered, "Professor Slughorn has since regretted his slip of tongue and won't tell me anything more. Though I  _have_  informed my fellow Slytherins that they and their families should be aware of the full extent of this school's— _unfortunate_  new admittance policies, let's say."

Malfoy surely wanted to provoke some sort of reaction out of him, but Remus said nothing.

"What  _are_  you?" Malfoy continued to hiss, though now he was even quieter. "What sort of half-breed must you be, to not even show it...?"

He paused to survey Remus carefully, who could not have answered even if he'd wanted to—he'd in fact lost the ability to speak.

Malfoy  _didn't_  know.

"Fine then," said Malfoy. He took a step backward and threw his hair over the opposite shoulder. "But let me remind you… you don't deserve to be here at this school. Dumbledore is an old fool who loves Muggles instead of his own kind."

Malfoy gave a brief, humorless laugh.

"I find even Mudbloods more welcome here at Hogwarts than halfbreeds, Lupin. Watch where you tread from now on or else see if I won't find a way to have you expelled."

Malfoy departed like a nightmarish shadow, headed off in the direction of the East Wing. It took a while before Remus could move again—he felt rage beginning to bubble in his chest, replacing the fear that had been there before. He now had ample proof that Malfoy knew nothing of the truth, yet he had done everything in his power to separate him from his peers and make him unhappy. It was all his fault, his deeply misinformed fault...

But then again…

Remus jogged the rest of the way to the library, already knowing it was probably too late.

But then again, what sort of Gryffindor would he be if he never tried to do anything about his miseries at all?


	8. Dirt and Dung

**VII. Dirt and Dung**

"You've still got ink on your nose, Lily."

"From yesterday? Seriously?"

Lily wiped vigorously at her face as she and Remus walked to the greenhouses. It turned out that while James and Sirius had very much intended to drench someone in ink yesterday, they'd wisely chosen to run for it the moment they saw Lily coming. According to Peter, who had arrived just in time to see it all happen, Lily might have even walked away cleanly from the situation if it hadn't been for an inkwell dislodging itself from James' bag and shattering at her feet.

At least one good thing had come of it, Remus thought privately: he and Peter had devoted their afternoons to helping Lily wash the ink from her belongings, and by the end of the day Remus had remarkably found himself with a new friend.

Lily seemed a little surprised, though not upset, when Remus said he'd try partnering with Peter during class today.

"You're sure?" inquired Lily. "But Pettigrew's not very—well, okay. I'll work with Stebbins, then."

Lily wandered over to one of her male Hufflepuff friends, who gave a visible nod before they went down a few rows to find an empty table together. Peter Pettigrew waved as he met with Remus, and then they went to find a table of their own.

"Good morning," Professor Sprout said to the class, coming into the greenhouse with a container full of seed packets. There were scattered replies of "good morning, Professor Sprout" as she began to pass them out to each pair of students.

"Now I hope you all did the reading on the Herbivicus charm?"

"Yes," the class chorused.

"Very good. Now, these here are just regular flower seeds, but I want you all to plant them in those trays over in the corner so that they're nice and cozy. Then use the charm to help them grow. I want to see lots of pretty flowers by the end of the period, everyone, so go on and get started!"

The class hurried to grab the supplies they needed. Remus and Peter got on pleasantly together, working dutifully but also finding the time to talk. The entire greenhouse soon filled up with happy conversation as Professor Sprout went around telling groups when they hadn't added enough earth or had managed to drown their seeds.

"You know, Lily's been spending a lot of time in the library lately," Peter was saying. He'd spread their potting soil much too thickly on their third tray, so Remus set about discretely removing as much as possible. "Do you think she's getting an early start on exams?"

"Exams are months away still," said Remus. "No one's mad enough to start studying for them  _now_."

Actually, Remus was fairly certain that Lily had been spending all this time in the library to meet up with Severus. It was the only place she felt she could speak to him without being bothered by some of Severus' creepier friends.

"That's true I guess. Still, James tells me he's seen her in the library every day this week."

Remus frowned.

"What, is Potter spying on her now?"

"Everyone, look here for just a moment!" exclaimed Professor Sprout, and everyone's heads popped up to see. A tiny leaf and stem had just appeared in the perfectly level tray of earth she held in her arms, and continued to grow exponentially in size until it bloomed into an impressive display of buttercups. The first years applauded with enthusiasm.

"Perhaps Mr. Potter has a side which appreciates beauty after all," Professor Sprout told the class warmly, and Remus' eyes widened as he saw James Potter take an exaggerated bow, claiming the first success of the class period solely for himself. Sirius Black was grinning behind him, and did not seem at all bothered to let James take the credit for their decidedly unmanly accomplishment.

"Five points to Gryffindor!" proclaimed the gleeful Professor Sprout, and she set the tray back down at their table. "Yes, just wonderful. Now, carry on everyone, let's see who manages it next!"

" _HERBIVICUS_!"

The entire classroom jumped. Lily had just jabbed her wand into the tray in front of her, causing an explosion of daisies which easily dwarfed James' buttercups.

"Oh my," said Professor Sprout, and Lily spun around, glaring. The rest of the first years began to laugh at how easily she'd beaten James, and soon larger and larger flowers of every type were springing up all around the room, until the greenhouse had turned into a garden that reminded Remus of  _Alice in Wonderland_.

"In any event," said Peter, waving his wand at their own seeds unsuccessfully, "James hasn't been doing any spying on Evans that I know of. He and Sirius are just spending a lot of time in library themselves lately. Supposedly they've been doing research on Hogwarts."

"Why on Hogwarts?"

"So they can find out secrets about the school, you know?  _Herbivicus_ ," Peter added, and prodded the soil with his wand. Nothing happened.

 

* * *

 

 The bell rang across the grounds, so the first years stripped off their dragon-hide gloves, washed their hands, and began their march back to the castle for lunch. Peter promptly took off to meet up with James and Sirius, so Remus purposefully lagged behind to wait on Lily—there was no need, however. Lily, the last one to leave the greenhouse, now sprinted up the sloping lawn, not only catching up to Remus but passing him by with a swish of her robes.

"Oi!" Remus shouted after her, but now he could see why Lily had hurried ahead. She caught up to James and seized him by the collar.

"YOU  _ARSE_!" she yelled.

"Geroff me!" James shouted back, and pushed her, causing Lily to stumble.

 _Potter's done it now,_  Remus thought, and ran to the scene.

"Stop, you'll get in trouble!" cried Peter. "Do something about her, Remus!"

But there was truly nothing that could be done. Not only was Remus not yet capable of stopping the fight by use of his wand, he was also less than willing to step in between them and have his eyes scratched out. It really said something about how quickly the fight escalated that even the onlookers were choosing to get away quickly, rather than stand and watch.

" _Cut it out!_ "

It was Sirius' voice that reached them at last. They froze with James' fist about to connect with Lily's stomach and Lily poised to punch James in the throat. Lily was the first to come to her senses—she retreated to Remus' side while James coolly brushed back his hair.

"What the hell was  _that_ , James?" Sirius demanded.

"She attacked me, you saw!" There was a large bruise forming below James' eye—he touched it gingerly to test how bad it was. "She just came up and attacked me for nothing!"

"Ha!" Lily said. Her face was bright with anger. "So now you're a liar, on top of it all?"

Sirius tried his best to frown at James but seconds later the facade had already cracked. He laughed out, "what'd you do this time?"

"Dunno what she's talking about," said James, innocently.

" _Oh yes you do!_ " Lily hissed. "I saw you hiding something behind your back just before Professor Sprout looked! You tell us what you did!"

James glanced momentarily at Sirius.

"Alright, alright," James admitted. "I nicked a bit of mooncalf dung before the bell rang and mixed it in with the dirt on my tray before Professor Sprout saw me do Herbivicus. Happy?"

"No," snorted Lily.

"That's stealing," said Peter, stating the obvious.

"Look," James said, pointing an accusatory finger at Lily and ignoring Peter all together, "I just needed a bit of leg up. I'm pants at Herbology, I kill every plant I touch, and I'm tired of getting bad marks because of it. Who cares if I stole a little dung?"

"Do you not have  _any_  shame?"

"Nope," said James, and Sirius laughed again. "Don't have a cow, Evans. I just don't feel like doing extra practice for a stupid class, is all—"

" _Are you a Gryffindor or not?_ " Lily shrieked, and Remus caught her arm just as she was about to take another swing at him. "Professor Sprout might've given you points but you know very well you didn't deserve them! What happened to the idea of Gryffindors being  _noble_ , Potter?"

For someone who had only been a Gryffindor for a short time, Lily was certainly very proud of it—Remus had a feeling that she was disgusted with James more so for disgracing Gryffindor House more than anything else. He had to admire her convictions in trying to keep James honest, at least, lost cause though he might be.

"Let's just let it go for now, Lily," said Remus softly.

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Then let's at least be reasonable, okay? Potter, hand it over if you've still got the dung. We'll give it back to Professor Sprout and tell her one of us picked it up by mistake."

James gave Remus a doubtful look, but reluctantly produced a small burlap sack from inside his robes. Remus took it from him and unthinkingly opened the sack to peer inside—he immediately regretted having stuck his nose anywhere near its rancid contents.

"Th-that's—definitely it." Remus shuddered and closed the sack. "Right, then let's go take this—"

"No, Remus!" Lily shook him with more violence than probably intended. "Either we make him admit he's done something wrong or we turn him in!"

"No way!" James yelped.

"I'll  _make_  you, Potter!" Lily turned on him again with a ferocious enough look that James paled. "At least admit it! Admit if you wanted to be a stupid cheat then you should—have—been—in— _Slytherin!_ "

"What was that, Miss Evans?"

The five Gryffindors had long forgotten that other students were still out on the grounds. It appeared that the fifth year Slytherins had just come up to the castle from their Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and Lucius Malfoy, whose green and silver prefect badge flashed dangerously in the noon sunlight, was unfortunately leading their group.

"Er," said Lily. Her face had turned bright red.

"Typically, three points would be taken for such rude remarks," Malfoy said, sneering. "But seeing as you're a Mudblood, let's make it five, shall we?"

The Slytherins began laughing, but Remus, James, and Sirius protested in outrage. Lily, however, looked around helplessly for an explanation, and for some reason, Peter didn't seem terribly fazed by the term either.

"She's  _not_  a Mudblood, Malfoy," growled James.

"Yeah she is," murmured Sirius, though he didn't seem to approve of the word. "Evans is a Muggle-born."

"Wait—is she really? Never would have guessed  _that_  in a million—"

"My dear Gryffindor friends," Malfoy sliced in coldly, "perhaps you didn't understand me—"

"We understood you just fine," said Sirius, with contempt. "Maybe  _you_  don't understand that having a prefect badge doesn't make you any less of a pompous twat?"

Several jaws dropped open all at once. James laughed compulsively at Sirius' nerve.

"Your poor parents must be heartbroken, Sirius," said Malfoy, rounding on him. "I see now that I should be keeping a better eye on you, now that you've chosen this wayward path…"

"And I intend to stay on it, thank you."

"Leave us alone, Malfoy," said James, emboldened. "None of us care about how many points you take, anyway. You can't hurt us, I'd like to see you try!"

Everyone around him groaned.

"Is that a  _challenge,_ Potter? Then perhaps I will just..."

And then, just as if a very bad nightmare had just turned into reality, Lucius Malfoy turned deliberately to Remus, knowing that he was the weakest of the group. The other Slytherins looked on with thirteen sneering sets of eyes.

"What's that you've got there, Lupin?"

Remus froze on the spot, realizing that  _he_  was now the one with stolen property in his hands. There could only two possible outcomes now, and neither would be pleasant: either Remus could take the blame himself—and then he could only imagine the story he'd have for his parents at the time of his expulsion (especially when the words "I stole some fertilizer" would inevitably come into the conversation)—or, conversely, if he somehow managed to prove himself innocent, that meant James would face punishment instead...

"Did you hear me?" asked Malfoy.

Remus could sense James panicking beside him.

"Mr. Lupin," Malfoy warned. "You do realize that withholding information from me could result in a detention on its own?"

"You better do what he says!" Peter squeaked, but Sirius stamped on his foot.

"Remus," Lily whispered urgently. "Say  _something_ or he'll—"

"Shut up, Mudblood," Malfoy said nastily, and that was all it took for Remus to make up his mind. He would never know why he did it, exactly—perhaps because he cared so deeply for Lily, or because Malfoy was so intensely despicable, or because he felt the maddening influence of the full moon that would come in few days' time. It was probably some unknowable mixture of all three.

"Give it to me," Malfoy snarled, thrusting out his hand.

"Fine then," said Remus. "Take it."

And without further ado, Remus reopened the burlap sack, turned it upside down, and emptied the soupy contents into Malfoy's palm.

His eyes went large as saucers. Mooncalf dung now ran down his sleeve and dripped onto the ground in sickening, smelly plops. A Slytherin beside him clapped a hand to her mouth and made an awful gagging noise.

"Lupin's done it now," said Sirius, a note of joy in his voice.

" _YOU_ —!"

The first years wheeled around in unison and streaked up the lawn without another thought. Shouts followed clear until they skidded into the Entrance Hall and slammed the great oak doors shut behind them.

"Oh my  _god_ ," Lily wheezed, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

Remus just shook his head, unable to speak. Even though he was short of breath and in a world of trouble, he still collapsed against those oak doors and laughed like a madman.


	9. A New Direction

**VIII. A New Direction**

Professor McGonagall placed an envelope with a wax seal into Remus' hands during breakfast and stalked off without speaking to him. Remus gazed down at the envelope as though he had just received a notice of his own imminent death.  _Memento Mori_ , the letter would say, only it would give a time and place.

"Not opening it won't make anything better," Lily sighed.

"There's a first time for everyone, mate," James said brightly. He'd become rather chummy with Remus since yesterday afternoon, though Remus had yet to decide what to make of this.

"Who are you calling your mate?" Lily asked murderously.

"If anyone knows anything about getting into trouble, it's us," Sirius reminded her. "I say don't worry about it, Lupin. You're a good man."

Remus gulped. He loosened his tie, then tightened it. He took a swig of his pumpkin juice, choked on it, swallowed—

"Oh bloody just open it," said Sirius, forgetting that he was trying to be supportive.

Nothing Remus did would make the reality of the situation go away. He removed the envelope's seal with sweating hands.

_Detention._

Remus J. Lupin had gotten himself a  _detention_.

"My parents will  _murder_  me," Remus said, aghast.

"Not if they don't find out," James advised. "The school doesn't tell your folks about every detention and house point, you know. Otherwise my own parents might've hauled me out of here by now—"

Sirius laughed.

"Imagine if they  _did._ I think my mum would have me thrown down a flight of stairs just for Potions on friday…"

James nearly snorted yogurt out of his nose.

" _Oh!_  You mean—that detention you got for telling Snivellus to suck your bollocks!"

" _WHAT?_ " Lily bellowed. Remus raised an eyebrow—he'd seen Professor Slughorn slam a detention slip down on Sirius' desk during Potions that day, but hadn't known before now what exactly he'd done to deserve it.

"Did I miss something?" asked Peter, who'd just sat down at the table with them, yawning widely. "Who's sucking whose bollocks?"

"No one is," chirped James. "Well, none that I know of. Mornin', Pete, have a nice lie in?"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU, BLACK!" Lily shouted, her face having gone from its usual color to the same shade as her hair. "WHAT DID SEVERUS EVER DO TO YOU?"

"Inside voices, Evans," said Sirius with a smirk.

" _What did he ever do to you_?" she repeated, though it was a decibel or two softer.

"It's a long, sad story," Sirius began with gusto, and James was already laughing. "You see, Professor Slughorn paired me with young Snivellus during Potions on friday, and we ended up in an argument about whether we'd added the flobberworm mucus yet. We definitely hadn't, obviously, but Snivellus said we had, so we get into it—Snivellus throws the whole bloody jar on me—well, okay, more like dripped a little accidentally—but it was  _disgusting_ , alright, so I decided I had to get even—"

"Get this," James said, his laughter now uncontrollable. "And then—and then Professor Slughorn says, 'are you boys fighting?' Ahaha. Go and tell them… tell them what happened next!"

Lily was clearly not finding this to be very funny, and looked to Remus for back up. Remus, however, had a betraying shadow of a smile on his lips—he'd been feeling neither fond of Severus nor Professor Slughorn lately, and was finding it very hard to keep a straight face.

"So Snivellus goes—" (here, Sirius put on a nasally voice that sounded nothing like him but was funny nonetheless—) "' _Professor_ , Black's gone and thrown armadillo bile on me because he thinks I haven't added the flobberworm mucus! Would you  _please_  tell him that any imbecile could tell that I have from the color it's turned…?' Well I'd had it after that, so I say, 'Professor, and will you please tell  _Snivellus_ that I don't care what he says and that he can just  _suck—my—bollocks?_ ' which I thought was a brilliant thing to say but Professor Slughorn didn't find it very funny—"

"The rest of us did though," James said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Good lord..."

The morning bell rang and the Great Hall began to filter out. James and Sirius walked side by side, still with enormous smiles on their faces, while Peter grabbed great handfuls of all the food he could reach, stuffing himself before breakfast could disappear. He hurried after the other boys a moment later.

Remus glanced at Lily, who surveyed him with a mild glare. He knew what was coming: she was surely going to berate him for thinking that Sirius' story was funny, make him feel guilty for having even dared smiled, and then quite possibly drag him to the Slytherin table with her and make him apologize.

"We're going to be late," Remus told her flatly. He swung his bag onto his shoulder and left her before he could change his mind.

Remus at last caught sight of Sirius, James, and Peter again, laughing and carrying on as they always were. They may have been arrogant little berks—Sirius especially, of course, and James fell all over himself trying to look cool, and Peter was rubbish at almost everything—but perhaps there was more to them than Remus had wanted to admit.

The main reason Remus had never before sought any sort of friendship with these three Gryffindor boys was because they had bullied Severus since day one. Remus disapproved of this, naturally, but Severus of course fought back in often nastier ways, so refusing to speak ill of him for Lily's sake was growing harder for him by the day. Bullying issues aside, Remus also did not care for that way Severus had chosen to join his fellow Slytherins in their game of treating him as though he had a highly contagious case of dragon pox.

Still, Remus hesitated to fall into step with the other boys. Would this mean he had officially stepped over to the side of evil? Would he soon be the one nicking manure and mouthing off to Slytherins? Would he, from now on, be merely amused by the threat of detention, and frequently vanish from the Gryffindor common room for hours, only to reappear with armfuls of dungbombs? If he made a habit of talking to them, would he be forced to join the Sirius-James-Peter cult forever? Somehow, he doubted that joining in with their Boys' Club would allow him to escape unscathed.

And yet...

Remus would never be able to forget that James Potter had been the very first to speak to him on the Hogwarts Express. He also suspected that James was a secretively caring person, beneath all the show-boating, because sometimes Remus caught him doing kind things without prompting, like offering people help with their spellwork. Sirius Black, meanwhile, had been accepted by his fellow Gryffindors despite his haughty mannerisms, and most of them approved of his rebellious streak if nothing else. He was also just as brilliant a wizard as James, and made speaking his mind look so  _easy,_ which was something Remus thought he'd never be able to do. Both James and Sirius had even accepted Peter, and that was saying something, considering Peter was no more popular a person at Hogwarts than Severus. So what about Remus J. Lupin, who believed himself stunningly boring besides one night a month? Might he be accepted as well?

Remus decided he wasn't going to be afraid to try. He clenched his hands, quickened his pace, and spoke without any idea of how much his life was about to change.

"Can I walk with you blokes?"

"Sure?" James seemed puzzled as to why Remus felt the need to ask permission in the first place. "I don't mind."

"I don't mind," agreed Peter.

"What're you doing for your detention, Lupin?" Sirius asked conversationally.

"Er," said Remus. He flipped open the piece of parchment to read it fully for the first time. "I'm supposed to be… on the fourteenth… I'll be scrubbing the Owlery without magic… oh, cripes…"

He was glad, however, that he hadn't gotten anything worse. Perhaps Malfoy had been too embarrassed about the whole ordeal to turn him in for anything more than disrespect.

"Really?" Sirius slugged Remus in the shoulder in a friendly, only mildly bruising sort of way. "That's what I'm doing too! McGonagall's going soft, seems like, having me do detentions with other people... maybe it's just because I do so many… oi, James, why don't  _you_  have detention?"

"Dunno," James said, grinning. "Lupin here got me out of any punishments for Thursday, I guess!"

"Thursday?" Remus remembered something, and his face fell. Why he had been briefly excited about his detention, he had no idea.

"What's the matter with Thursday?"

"What? Did you want it to be Wednesday, so you'd skip Astronomy?"

Professor McGonagall must not have known, Remus thought. The full moon would be coming on Friday night, not Thursday, but detention in the Owlery would still involve being bathed in strong moonlight for hours—and  _that_  could involve all manner of unpleasant side effects for Remus, even if he was safe from actually transforming. He would need to speak to her, and see if he couldn't have his detention rescheduled...

"It's got nothing to do with Astronomy. I'll just have to do it another time," Remus muttered.

"Why?"

"Because I—can't be there."

It was a terrible excuse, and Remus knew it, but he didn't have the time to think.

"Are you going to be gone again?"

Remus blinked. "What?"

"You're gone sometimes," said Peter. "Like every few weeks."

"He is?" James looked pensive. "Hm… huh. Actually, yeah, I guess so. What's with the absences, huh?"

Remus just barely kept himself from cursing. This was  _exactly_  why he couldn't allow himself to get too close to anyone: if he knew someone too well, if they paid enough attention to him and cared about him, they would inevitably begin to ask questions.

"I get sick a lot," Remus told them lamely.

"Sick?" pressed Peter. "Sick on a regular basis?"

"I can't help when it happens, you know."

James and Sirius both rolled their eyes. Peter regarded Remus with even stronger suspicion as the stairs to the first floor began to shift, connecting with the hallway that led to History of Magic.

"You got something to hide, Lupin?"

"No." Remus' heart had started to pound.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. My health just isn't very good, alright?"

"You're doing a pretty bad job of convincing us of that."

"He's got a secret," said Sirius wickedly. " _Definitely_  got a secret."

"Definitely," James agreed. His lip quirked. "I should figure out a way to get myself a detention for Thursday too, now."

"Don't," snapped Remus.

"Why not? Afraid I'll find out something I shouldn't?"

"There isn't anything to find out. I don't feel great right at this moment and I'm sure I'll be worse by Thursday. That's the only reason I won't be going."

"Yeah right," said Sirius.

They had reached the classroom, so Remus purposefully walked away from the boys and sat down at his usual seat. It had been so nice to act like he was one of them a few minutes ago, but that was the end of that.

Or perhaps that  _wasn't_  that. Remus hadn't even taken out his notes before James, Sirius and Peter had him surrounded again.

"Go away," protested Remus. "You're in Lily's seat, Potter—"

"Tell us what you're being all secretive about. Tell us the truth."

"No."

"So there  _is_  something! Tell us!"

"It isn't something you need to know about."

"Why not?"

"What, scared of us or something?"

"Did Lupin lose his bollocks?"

The bell rang again, and the boys reluctantly went back to their seats. Remus was just beginning to breathe normally again when Lily jogged into the classroom, shut the door behind her, and slipped into her chair. Remus was probably the only one to have noticed her lateness, as History of Magic class usually involved the entire class going straight into a boredom-induced coma.

"What took you?" Remus said to Lily, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"Severus," Lily said. She was panting slightly as she set down her bag. "Told him I was sorry for what  _they_  did."

"Sorry I didn't go with you," Remus began. "But—"

"You aren't friends with him anymore," said Lily, with a tiny shrug. She flipped through her notes under she had found the right page. "And I realize Severus hasn't been nice to you."

"Oh," said Remus. So Lily did understand. That was good, because now he could go back to being just Lily's friend in peace. James, Sirius and Peter might have offered more entertainment, but they were also much too curious.

"Sev hasn't been very nice to me either recently," Lily added softly, though before Remus had the chance to ask what this meant, Professor Binns floated in through the chalkboard and cleared his ghostly throat.

"And," he said, starting mid-sentence and precisely at the point in their text that he had ended with a few days ago, "in 1512—"

"Professor?"

James' hand had shot into the air. This was quite a shock, as History of Magic was a class that generally went by without anyone raising their hands at all.

"What's he doing?" Lily wondered aloud.

"Mister…" Professor Binns' boring voice was even slower than usual. "Mister… Plodder, was it? Or maybe…"

"Right," said James, plowing right through whatever his next guess might be. "Professor Binns, I'd just like to know if you could please give me a detention for Thursday night? Scrubbing out the Owlery, specifically."

James put down his hand and kept his eyes firmly locked on Professor Binns. The entire class sat in stunned silence except for Sirius, who had his head down on his desk and was shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"If you like, Mr. Plodder," Professor Binns said. He made a note on a piece of paper, then turned back to the textbook. "And, in 1512…"

"Oh!" Peter called out. His arm had shot skyward as well, hand fluttering frantically in the air. "Me too, Professor!"

Professor Binns made another mark. Remus buried his head in his hands and did not resurface until the class period was over.

 

* * *

 

_March 8, 1972_

_Name(s): Sirius Black_

_Offense: Foul language; disrespect for a teacher and fellow student_

_Punishment: Owlery Cleaning_

 

_March 11, 1972_

_Name(s): Remus Lupin_

_Offense: Disrespect for a prefect (NB: First ever rule violation.)_

_Punishment:_   _Owlery Cleaning_

 

_ March 12, 1972   
_

_Name(s): James Potter and Peter Pettigrew_

_Offense: Requested_

_Punishment:_   _Owlery Cleaning_

 

Harry Potter found himself in detention a little more than twenty five years later, forced to organize disciplinary notices as part of his punishment. With this most recent sequence of detentions, however, the murderous expression he'd worn for the last hour faded into puzzlement. He risked a glance at Snape, wondering if he should ask.


	10. To Protect A Secret

**IX. To Protect A Secret**

Though Remus had arrived at the Owlery ten minutes early, the other boys clearly did not see the necessity in being punctual. James, Sirius and Peter strolled into the connecting corridor at only about thirty seconds until midnight, chattering loudly enough to wake the entire castle.

"Hey Remus," Peter greeted, sounding downright chipper about the whole ordeal.

"Looks like he decided to show up after all," said Sirius, snickering. "McGonagall wouldn't let you off?"

James, however, at least had the decency to look conflicted.

"You alright, Lupin? I didn't expect you to actually be looking peaky."

"Suck my bollocks, Potter," Remus snapped at him. He  _was_  looking peaky, and could feel it down to the bones, too.

"Sure, mate," said James coolly, as Sirius and Peter both began laughing behind him. "I'd prefer to do it in private, though—might be a bit awkward with these blokes around…"

"Shut  _up_!" Remus groaned. Sirius' laughter had advanced to an obnoxious howling. "Bloody hell, why'd you have to ask for a detention?"

"Didn't I already say? I wanted to see if you'd turn up tonight or not. And I'd be able to keep Sirius company even if you didn't, so it was worth it either way."

Remus had just been about to call James the worst insult he knew when the caretaker came marching around the corner from the other direction. Apollyon Pringle was the sort of man with a permanent scowl on his face, and even took great pleasure in it whenever he needed to dole out punishments.

"So it's the usual suspects and these two," said Pringle, bitterly. "You keep getting off easy, I tell ya. If I had my way, you lot'd be hanging from the ceiling…"

"Why aren't we?" asked Peter.

"Why don't ya ask Professor Dumbledore?" Pringle grumbled. "I aughta resign already, Dippet never had anything against a good beating… hard as anything to keep you little snots in line when there's no fear left in ya…"

"I doubt you'd still  _have_  this job if it weren't for us," sneered Sirius. "You call yourself a caretaker? This school's filthy."

Pringle did not hesitate to hit Sirius upside the head with his broom.

The Owlery was generally off limits to students at this time of night, but the caretaker unlocked the door and forced the boys inside after confiscating their wands. Four sets of cleaning supplies waited for them within, as well as two stepladders and more dirty perches than one could count. Save for a few exceptions, the hundreds of owls that slept in the Owlery during the day were out to hunt or fetch mail for their owners.

"You'll be in here cleaning until two in the morning," Pringle said, rattling his keys in their faces. "And I'll be locking the door after ya, so don't ya even  _think_  about escaping."

Pringle slammed the door shut, causing a considerable amount of droppings to come loose and land on top of them.

"This sucks bullocks?" said Peter hopefully.

"It's only funny when we say it, Pete," James informed him, and ruffled his already untidy hair with an indignant look on his face. "Christ. This job stinks a lot more than I thought it would."

Remus understood that he wasn't just referring to the smell. Moldy straw and the bones of small animals crunched under their feet as they moved further inside.

"What if one of us has to use the bathroom?" asked Peter.

"Go in the corner," Sirius suggested, dropped his bucket to the floor, slopping water everywhere. He was the first to roll up his sleeves and resign himself to the work ahead, but then once he had his brush actually in his hand he hesitated.

"Anyone ever have to clean stuff before?"

"Not me," said James, sheepishly. He held his own brush like it was an alien device. "My mum just uses her wand."

"Our house-elf does the cleaning at my place," said Sirius offhandedly, and the others gave him jealous looks.

"What about you, Remus?" Peter asked. "You've got a Muggle parent, right?"

"Er," said Remus, slightly off-put. He couldn't remember ever telling Peter this directly. "Yeah, Mum's had me do a little cleaning before… says it's good for me to learn to do things without magic and all that…"

"Share your secrets with us then, Lupin," encouraged James. Remus felt ridiculous to pick up his brush and instruct them on a matter he found so intuitive, but the other boys watched the demonstration he gave with apt attention.

"Also—just, er, don't just do it all wimpy like," Remus said. "And wash the brush off occasionally. That's really all there is."

They started to work right away. Pringle hadn't specified whether or not the Owlery needed to be  _spotless_  by the time he came back, but the group decided they'd best do as much as they could anyway. No one talked much at first, but once they'd gotten past the fact that the Owlery was disgusting and their arms were steadily growing sore, each of them became more efficient at their work.

They began chatting again, Remus learned several things about the others he hadn't known before. James Potter, for instance, was apparently from an old wizarding family living in the village of Godric's Hollow in the West Country (Remus had already heard of the place, of course, as everyone knew Godric's Hollow was named for Godric Gryffindor himself). James' parents were rather old, he told them, and he had no siblings, so he had led a fairly uneventful life before coming to Hogwarts. James took pride in his family's ownership of a great number of magical artifacts, though he confessed that he didn't know the stories behind most of them.

Sirius, who was of course from the pureblooded and incredibly rich Black family, was a Londoner—which explained his accent—and it was immediately obvious that he more or less hated his own home. His family was positively fanatical about their heritage, he said, and a great number of them sympathized with Voldemort and his ilk. Andromeda Black, in Sirius' opinion, was the only member of his family who had turned out alright, or, indeed, the only member of Slytherin House who had turned out alright. Remus readily agreed with this assessment—Andromeda had treated Remus pleasantly since the day they'd met, and had even sent him a present last Christmas, too.

As for Peter Pettigrew, he only revealed that his family was from Wales. Though his parents did not have some noble background, he was pretty sure that one of his grandparents had once done some work for the Ministry of Magic.

"Where are you from, Remus?" Peter asked.

"All over the place," answered Remus, carefully. He and his family changed their place of residence at least once a year, and they often lived in Muggle-only communities, where the neighbors were far less likely to notice anything funny about the Lupins. "My family moves a lot, so I've never really felt like I was from one place in particular. And Mum's a Muggle, like I said, but Dad's a researcher—he studies spirits, mostly."

"And your Dad had no problem marrying a Muggle?" asked Sirius, acting as though such a thing was impossible.

"Yeah. Dad says they met by chance when he saved Mum from a Boggart. She wasn't really in danger, of course, but it gave her a fright—"

"Very romantic," said James, grinning.

"The most recent place I've lived, though," said Remus, blushing a little, "is all farmland. I think I like being in the middle of nowhere best, actually, because then you can do whatever you want and no one's bothered. There's some woods within walking distance of our most recent house, and personally I think it's fun just to get yourself lost in there..."

"That sounds nice, actually," sighed Sirius. "I don't really like London—or what little I get to see of it, anyway. I'd honestly do anything to not have to go home again—my parents expect me to eat and breathe their every word, like my brother does—"

"You have a brother?" asked James, with alarm.

"Yeah, Regulus. Didn't I never mention him? He's a moron, anyway. Believes every word of all this purebloods-are-good-as-kings rubbish—"

"Are you glad that you got to be in Gryffindor House?" asked Remus.

"Of course I am." Sirius sloshed more water onto the step he was cleaning. "I was terrified I had no hope of escaping Slytherin the day I got here..."

"But you  _did_ ," said Peter, proudly.

"Noticed, did you?" Sirius smiled weakly. "Gryffindor's been great, really. I mean, people weren't exactly pleased to have me around at the beginning, and that was tough, but it's still completely worth it to be away from my family's talk. I get to speak my mind and to hear from people who actually make  _sense_  for once. And James is the best friend I've ever had," he added.

"Aw, how sweet," James teased.

"You think I'm kidding? Blimey, before coming to Hogwarts, life sucked."

No one spoke, but it was clear from the looks they shared that they all felt the same way. It seemed that for all of them, for one reason for another, life had gotten better since coming to Hogwarts.

"How did you parents take it?" Remus inquired. "You know, when they found out you weren't sorted into Slytherin?"

Sirius laughed darkly to himself. James shook his head.

"He hasn't told them."

" _Hasn't told them_?"

"Can you blame me? Mum and Dad might've forced me to come home for Christmas but I just kept my mouth shut when they asked about school. None of my cousins have mentioned it to them either, but that's only because I convinced 'Dromeda to try and tell everyone my parents are so ashamed of me that they don't want it brought up..."

"I've told you putting it off will just make it worse, mate," warned James. "And now Easter's coming up..."

"Well, you know me. I'm all about instant gratification and not the long-term..." Sirius tried to make a joke of it but didn't have the heart to make it work. "Look, I'll tell them when I'm good and ready. I will. I'm just not exactly looking forward to being sent off to Durmstrang when they find out, alright? I'd never see any of you ever again."

"I'm hoping your parents just disown you, personally. Mum's always wished she could have had more kids, I'd bet she could convince Dad to adopt you if I just put in a good word first."

"Ha! Wouldn't that he something..."

"Maybe we should change the subject to something more happy," suggested Remus.

"I agree," said Peter, brightly. "Here's a subject: what sort of half-breed are you, Remus?"

Remus paused for a moment and then smiled crookedly at him. "Pardon?"

" _Peter_ ," James sputtered. "You don't actually  _believe_ that rumor?"

"Of course I don't, I'm joking. If he was anything but completely human I think we'd all be able to tell—"

"We prefer the term part-human, actually."

" _What_?" Sirius now looked at Remus like he'd Transfigured in front of him. "So that means you're—?"

"I'm part centaur," said Remus dryly. "You know, half-human but also half-human?"

"God dammit, Lupin!" Sirius laughed with relief and picked up the brush he'd dropped. "You actually had me going for a second!"

"I knew it wasn't true," said Peter, beaming. "What a bunch of rubbish."

"Speaking of a bunch of rubbish—" James had a suddenly wicked look on his face. "So long as you're sharing your secrets, I think it's about time Lupin told us what was so important about today that he almost wasn't here."

Remus froze with his eyes on the patch of floor he was scrubbing. Moonlight had been shining down on him this entire time...

"Subtle, James," snorted Sirius. "Look, now you've made him panic."

"I'm not panicking," Remus whispered. "It's nothing."

It was just one day before the full moon—just one day before!—and here he was, bathed in the light of his least favorite celestial body and still feeling no worse than if he'd been coming down with a cold. He'd started off feeling irritable, of course, but now he felt neither violent nor hungry nor any of the other things he associated with the night before his transformation...

" _Nothing?_  Then what were you going on about before?" James sounded annoyed. "You really  _were_  just sick? But you were acting so damn suspicious earlier—"

"You did make it sound like a big deal," Peter agreed.

"It's  _not_  a big deal," insisted Remus.

"Yes it is," said Sirius. "We have to pry it out of you even now. Tell the truth, Lupin."

_The truth?_  Remus was in a frenzy of thought—what would seem reasonable for him to say? Peter had already pointed out that he was absent from class on a regular basis, so this already limited his excuses to a near hopeless degree. It did not help that some very small voice in the back of Remus' head wanted very badly to tell these boys everything he had been keeping secret for all these years...

No. He  _must_  lie. He had to lie if he wanted any hope of staying at Hogwarts. The truth could only end in everything taken away from him; every _one_  taken away from him: Lily, James, Sirius, and Peter...

They were too precious to him  _not_  be lied to.

"I'm out of class once a month to visit my mother," said Remus. "She's very ill."

The room went silent for a moment.

"Oh god," said Sirius.

"I'm sorry," Peter said, averting his eyes.

"What's the matter with her?" asked James, troubled.

"The doctors won't tell us what they know," Remus invented quickly. He couldn't bide for time: he had to act like this was all old news and like he wasn't making it up. "We're not even sure that they know what it is..."

"Doctors?" James said incredulously. "Send her to Mungo's, they'd find what's wrong with her faster than a Muggle ever could…"

"Not if she's got a Muggle disease, though," Sirius pointed out. "There's still plenty of diseases not even Healers understand, you know."

"Right," Remus said, nodding solemnly. He was glad Sirius had said this or else he never would have thought of it. "And Mum's not getting better, either. She has to stay in bed all day. All the time."

"And you visit her once a month?"

"Yes. About every month."

"Wow..."

"You must be afraid," Peter whispered.

"Of course he is," said Sirius, impatiently. "His mum's probably gonna..."

They fell silent once more. The other boys wore looks of immense pity and Remus turned away. It was not because he wanted to compose himself, as the others would be led to believe, but because he was ashamed.


	11. Transformation

**X. Transformation**

At exactly three in the morning, a full hour after their detention should have ended, Pringle unlocked the Owlery door.

Pringle gazed at the mostly clean perches and floor for a moment, then at the four boys, who all looked fit to pass out from exhaustion. He gave an approving grunt and took back the cleaning supplies before dismissing them.

Even James and Sirius didn't have the energy to complain about the extra hour added to their sentence as they stumbled back to Gryffindor Tower. Remus forced himself into the shower—though only in the interest of not smelling like owl droppings in the morning—and collapsed into bed soon afterwards, asleep within moments.

The next morning came much too soon. Normally Hogwarts students began to stir around eight o'clock so they would have time to dress and eat breakfast before classes started at nine, but rising for the day could not have been less appealing on less than five hours sleep. James and Peter were the first to grudgingly get up, then Remus, though Sirius could only be forced out of bed after a collective effort from all three.

"Can't we skive off Transfiguration at least?" whined Sirius, as James threw his robes at him. "Pretend to be sick or something? C'mon, this is practically torture—"

"We've got a test today, remember? And McGonagall knows we had detention, there's no way we could ask to do a make-up later."

"Whatever. Tell her I'll take a zero, I'm going back to sleep..."

"Oh no you won't," said James, beating him with a pillow. "We're all going to suffer  _together_ , you hear me?"

"Actually," mumbled Remus.

"Not you too!"

"No, I'm not saying I agree with him, I mean that I can't be in class today. After breakfast I have to—"

"Right, I remember.  _You_  might have an excuse, then, but Sirius still isn't off the hook. So come on, you big lump."

"At least tell your mum hello for us, Remus," said Peter miserably, and Remus managed to feel badly for his friends, even knowing that what lay ahead of him today would be far worse than a lack of sleep.

 

* * *

 

Most wizards had a misconception—one misconception among many—that werewolves made little preparation for a full moon; that they could spend the day idling, perhaps even allowing their transformations to take them by surprise. This was far from the truth: not only would Remus need to swallow down a series of potions before moonrise—these would make transforming more tolerable, though still hardly pleasant—but there was also the problem of noticeable symptoms appearing before Remus was able to go to his morning classes at least, but today he'd woken up this morning with the faint taste of blood on his tongue and felt it might be wise to make an early start.

He entered the infirmary to find Madam Pomfrey writing up an accident report for an older student who could only speak in frog croaks. It was never too early in the morning for hexes to go awry, it seemed.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Mr. Lupin."

Remus went to his usual bed in the far corner and drew back the heavy curtains before climbing in. Madam Pomfrey met with him a few minutes later, performing all the usual examinations and asking all the usual questions.

"I'm doing loads better this time around," said Remus. "Really. Mostly I just feel tired today."

"That so, dear? Open up a moment."

Madam Pomfrey had asked Remus to open his mouth so she could examine the state of his teeth. She kept a record of things like these, to track changes in the severity of his symptoms from month to month, and adjust his potions accordingly.

"No wonder you cut your lip," murmured Madam Pomfrey. "You do look well otherwise though, Mr. Lupin. Any idea what's changed between this month and the last?"

"Well." Remus felt faintly embarrassed by it, but it was the only theory he had: "I've had some good things happen this past week, I guess?"

"I see—glad to hear that. One's mental state truly does make a difference with these things, you know."

Madam Pomfrey brought Remus his potions as always and saw that he took them properly, then wished him a nice rest. One of these potions was a mild Sleeping Draught, to ensure Remus got some sleep before the restless night ahead, but for once he was able to drift off without taking a single sip.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, nearer to sunset, Madam Pomfrey gently woke Remus again and had him take both a Calming Draught and a nameless cocktail of pain relievers. These would honestly make little difference once in the throes of transformation, but Remus had never once refused them.

"Ready then?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Remus. There was no sense delaying the inevitable.

Madam Pomfrey covered herself with her cloak, Disillusioned Remus and stole him from the castle—within another ten minutes she had brought him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the Whomping Willow lay waiting for their arrival. Its branches swung at them viciously until she enchanted a small stone to strike a knot of roots at the Willow's base.

"Hurry now."

Beneath the Willow was a well-hidden tunnel. They dropped down into it, with a slight "oof" as they landed, and Madam Pomfrey led Remus along for long while before the tunnel widened and and they had inexplicably come to a basement door.

"In you get, Mr. Lupin," Madam Pomfrey said, reversing Remus' Disillusionment with a tap of her wand. "I will come get you in the morning as always. Best of luck, dear."

Remus passed through the door and shut it behind him. He locked it out of habit, even if the half dozen spells Madam Pomfrey had just whispered from the other side would be quite enough to prevent his escape.

"Hullo," Remus whispered, watching a spider descend from the ceiling on a thread. There were a few things that Remus could always count on seeing in the Shrieking Shack: friendly spiders, broken furniture, and a layer of grime so thick over everything he could've laid down on the floor to make dust angels. The furniture hadn't always been broken, of course: prior to becoming a once-a-month werewolf prison, this abandoned residence had in fact come equipped with perfectly  _un_ broken furniture. In his transformed state, however, Remus quite enjoyed destroying everything he laid eyes on, and the Shack looked ever worse for it.

Remus began to remove his robes with a sigh of resignation. A werewolf didn't fit very well into human clothing, of course, so he would need to magically lock them away in the basement cupboard if he didn't want his belongings in tatters. Once he'd completed this task, Remus went upstairs and sat on the ruined sofa in the living room to wait.

And wait he did.

It seemed funny to him now, but Remus recalled there being a time in his childhood when he hadn't known what a werewolf even was. He'd understood that the lunar phases held a terrifying significance for him, of course, but he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time under the impression that his painful transformations were something that happened to everyone—that he would eventually grow out of it, like his parents obviously had. Remus had just been too young and too isolated to understand the truth.

Remus had also been too young to clearly recall the bite itself—what he  _did_  remember was the tremendous pain in his calf the next morning, and that he'd seen his father crying for the first time in his life. Mrs. Lupin had hugged Remus tightly, smoothing his hair, whispering to him, "Remus, sweetie, we love you, we'll always love you, everything's going to be okay," but Mr. Lupin had just sunk into an armchair and sobbed into his hands. It was in that moment that Remus knew everything  _wouldn't_  be okay, and learned for the first time that his parents did not always hold the power to make things right again.

 _"I'm so sorry, Remus_ — _"_

It started happening just when Madam Pomfrey said it would. Remus had been absently counting the freckles on the back of his arm when he noticed the thin hairs there beginning to grow thicker, so he immediately moved himself from the sofa, not trusting himself not to fall off once the pain set in. Next his skin began to tremble, his bones began aching, and his blood grew hot. This would be Remus' last chance to experience human thought—he used the opportunity to regret having forgotten to clip his nails.

The worst part was about to come, though bracing himself for it did not stop the screaming. Normally he tried not to think about it—the very thought made him sick—but at this very moment his bones and muscles had begun to rearrange themselves, bending and molding, each movement stretching his skin like rubber. His organs shunted themselves about in different directions, his tendons and muscles and veins pulled themselves apart, and the network of nerves under his flesh became so strained that they snapped and reformed continuously. There was simply no comparison, no words to describe it, only pain on top of pain.

The internal shifting ended. Now all that was left was for his teeth to elongate into fangs, puncturing his lips before his mouth had turned completely into a muzzle, for his ears to change shape and migrate upward, and for his spine to finish growing out to a tail. Even Remus' agonized yells had transformed, becoming a miserable whining that was punctuated by growls.

The pain lifted, except for a lingering soreness that would last all evening. Remus wobbled as he stood back up on four legs, and surveyed the world again through the mind of a beast.

The werewolf began to slash and claw at everything in reach. He needed blood,  _human_  blood, people to maim and slaughter, and this basic necessity replaced his every thought. He didn't care how much destruction he caused—he needed  _out_ , he needed to be to hunt, he needed to chase someone down and rip them apart—slash them, tear them—mutilate and devour them—

He slammed himself up against walls, upturned a chair, sunk his claws into the floor and left behind deep tracks. He scrambled upstairs and searched the bedrooms, growing angrier when he still found no avenue of escape. He charged down the steps again in his fury, crashing through the stair rail and falling to the lower floor. Dust, wood and fur went flying.

The werewolf continued his rampage for hours. He could see through a window that the moon had reached its highest point and had already begun its descent—he howled at it pitifully, begging for more time. He grew eventually so desperate that he barreled down a hallway and bashed through a door that he'd never managed to break down before.

The werewolf sensed a heartbeat. Several heartbeats.

Where were they coming from? He tried sniffing out the source and allowed himself to speculate wildly about what he might be tracking. The werewolf was crestfallen, however, when his nose led him at last to a nest of very young kittens, their eyes closed and their bodies still weak, mewling pathetically for help.

Well then.  _Something_  to kill, anyway.

The werewolf had just opened his jaws when quite from nowhere, a solid black cat came bounding up, hissing and spitting. It slashed him across the nose with a sharp claw and the wolf reeled back, roaring with anger. But then he remembered that he was much larger than the cat, more powerful and still quite capable of stamping out its life—he went after it again, but—

He hesitated. The cat was glaring at him with the fur standing up along her back, posed to sacrifice her life for her kittens at any time. The kittens continued to cry out, and the werewolf, a monstrous animal but an animal nonetheless, realized that if he just listened, he could almost make out the words behind their frightened pleading.

He couldn't make himself go on. The werewolf backed away, tail swishing, and sat down near the door. The mother cat surveyed him wearily for a few minutes longer, then went to attend to her children.

The werewolf looked on with a mixture of feelings he'd never experienced in this form. The cat refused to let her guard down completely, but her attention had gone to her kittens now, allowing them to nurse and then keeping watch over them as they settled down to sleep. The werewolf realized, in his simplistic, animal way, that he'd seen this cat before, and that her owner was none other than Andromeda Black. More significantly, he became vaguely aware that he too had a mother, a Muggle mother who was not always perfect, who couldn't always save him from his pains and terrors, but who deeply cared for him all the same...

Remus woke the next morning to find himself curled up in a comfortable position on the floor. He was disappointed to learn that the cat had relocated her kittens, but happy to find the worst injuries he'd suffered from last night were a long bruise along his side and a scratch on the tip of his nose. Normally he got off much worse.

He stumbled off to dress himself, wondering about the implications of what he had discovered just recently: one, that he was not so influenced by the moon when his mind was occupied by the thought of others, and two, that when transformed, the company of non-humans could be greatly beneficial. Perhaps these factors could be used to his advantage, to ensure that his transformations became less miserable in the future...

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Notes: James Potter
> 
> There's remarkably little to go on with both James and Lily, which in a way I'm grateful for, because that allowed me to do things like conceive of them as diametrically opposed on a major issue: abiding the rules. I'll get into Lily with a later note, but James (like Harry) is the type who tends to just disregard whatever rules are in his way and doesn't often respect that they might be there for a reason. He also cares too much about what other people think of him, meaning he can sometimes seem like entirely different person depending on the social setting. Lily is actually the first person to ever hate him, so he gets mentally stuck on her and ends up in love. What an idiot.
> 
> James' least admirable moments occur in first year (he's perpetually trying to look cool in front of Sirius at this point) and during fifth year, when a combination of adolescence, stress, and Quidditch stardom brings out the worst in him again. It's eventually Remus and Lily's influence that helps him grow into a more righteous individual.
> 
> A surprising number of people seem to think James was a constant bully in his youth. I disagree: I think the scene in the pensieve in OotP was a display of James' worst behavior towards Severus, and likewise of Severus' worst behavior towards Lily. I realize that it's the biggest chunk of first-hand characterization we have, but I'd be astounded if JKR truly intended this to define James' character (Lily would go on to love him and Sirius and Remus would insist he was a fundamentally good person, after all). Therefore, I try to characterize James as a flawed person, but one with a capacity for love, generosity and self-sacrifice that goes beyond most others, and this is what makes him a Gryffindor.
> 
> Of lesser importance: for some reason I often see James described as being comparable to Sirius in terms of looks, but considering Harry is described as having a somewhat awkward appearance that also closely resembles James', I doubt James was especially handsome.


	12. Surprises

**Year Two  
I. Surprises**

"Alright gents, this is the stuff." James grinned devilishly at the sight of everyone kneeling around his trunk. "I promise you that it's the very best of what I managed to nick."

"Yeah?" Sirius had grown so impatient with James that he seemed halfway to exploding. "So we finally get to see the one you've been teasing about  _all bloody summer_?"

"Oh yes," James said, readjusting his glasses much too casually. " _That's_  in here too."

"You're making it sound an awful lot like you're just putting us on," said Remus. Sirius and Peter nodded affirmatively.

"It's supposed to be a  _surprise_ , you idiots. And it isn't a surprise if I tell you about it, now is it?"

"I don't  _care_  about surprises. Just get on with it, would you?"

"Fine, Sirius, just ruin everyone's fun—"

" _Your_  fun, more like."

" _Fine_ ," groused James, but pulled the first latch on his trunk. Peter was so excited that he was barely breathing; Sirius quite forgot his irritation as James opened the trunk's lid with a dramatic flourish.

James Potter, showoff extraordinaire, had proudly spent his summer break on a sort of treasure hunt inside his own home. The Potter household had always been filled to the brim with enchanted objects, he said, and it was amazing what there was for him to discover now that he knew the Unlocking Charm. Though his family's most valuable heirlooms were all locked up at Gringotts, James kept hinting that he'd 'borrowed' one object in particular which was so amazing it was going to change their lives forever. He'd teased them about this for so long, and in such an infuriating manner, that Sirius had apparently gotten fed up and sent him a Howler.

_My hearing came back today and it got me thinking,_ James had written in one of his letters.  _I doubt Mum and Dad would notice if I brought a few things to Hogwarts with me..._

_Sounds like a bad idea_ _,_  Remus had written back.  _Probably illegal, too._

_I asked Sirius and Peter and you have been sadly veto'd. See you September 1st! HAHA_

_JAMES DON'T._

But James  _did_ , of course, and now his trunk lay open before them with a magnificent collection of odds and ends inside. Many of these items appeared perfectly normal, even boring, but this was typical of magical artifacts: it was camouflage. The creators of these objects—the  _responsible_  ones, anyway—designed them to blend in and go unnoticed, even if they were one day forgotten by wizards and found their way into Muggle hands. Remus had heard from his father that the Ministry of Magic had an entire department devoted to sorting out the messes that became of this on a regular basis.

"It looks like a bunch of old rubbish," said Peter.

"Rubbish?" James' face fell. "They're  _supposed_  to—"

"Don't explain what the rest of us already know," Sirius complained. He swept up the first object within reach—an ordinary penknife, by the looks of it, but who knew what it might be capable of.

"Might I suggest," began Remus, and jumped when Sirius flicked it open without concern.

"So what's this one do? Y'know, besides shiv people?"

Sirius Black was James Potter's best friend and partner in crime. They were very alike in every category but outward appearances: James, for example, seemed eternally young for his age while Sirius had come back from his summer looking—and acting—like a beaten-down teenager.

_I'm an idiot_ , he'd written to Remus.  _Dad asked if I liked my head of house and I thought he meant McGonagall for a second. Couldn't talk my way out of it and had to tell the truth._

Sirius had successfully dodged a sentence to Durmstrang, at least, but he said that his parents were now treating him no better than an unsightly stain on the family's honor.  _Don't worry though_ , his letters had said, because Andromeda Black had made every excuse to take Sirius out to London's various wizarding establishments and make sure he was well. Andromeda, however, had finally been caught on something herself: she'd found herself already pregnant by her Muggleborn boyfriend some time in August, and so the cousins' merry tour of the city had ended.

" _That_ , my friend, is extremely useful. That penknife can bust any lock and unknot any knot. It's also got probably a thousand attachments in there for everything you'd ever need."

Sirius closed and reopened the knife. A nasty looking hook had replaced the blade.

" _Brilliant_."

"Then it's yours."

James' best asset, Remus thought, was his kindness to those who needed it. Though James might've been an arse the rest of the time, and might've looked rather silly with his glasses that were too large for his face and his hair that had never been introduced to a comb, Sirius—so often inclined to insult others for little reason—refused to say a word against him. Well, most of the time.

"Really?" asked Sirius, eyes brightening. "You'll give it to me?"

"Take it," James insisted. "Anything for my best mate."

"Is it really yours to give away, though?" Peter asked dubiously.

"Sure it is. If it belongs to the Potters it belongs to me."

"I don't think that's quite how it works," said Remus. He, unlike Sirius, chosen to devote his attentions to something far more harmless looking: a quill made from an eagle feather. "Where's the one you've been dying to show us, James?"

"We're still building up to that. Interested in the Backwards Quill, are you?"

"Backwards Quill?" Remus inspected the quill and saw nothing backwards about it at all. "Not in particular."

"I might as well give something to everyone, Remus. Don't want anyone to feel left out, do I?"

Remus still felt faintly embarrassed whenever James' affection extended to him as well.

"Well—tell me what it does first, at least."

"I can't really describe it too easily," said James. "The Backwards Quill isn't the real name of it, if it's even got one, but I've been calling it that because that quill isn't one you can write with. Its more like you can use it to find the words in things, I guess. Stories and spells, you know?"

"I'm not following," said Peter.

"The damn thing repels ink if you ever try to use it as an regular quill, basically. At first I thought maybe it was just cursed or something, but come on, who curses a quill to repel ink? Whoever did  _that_  must have been an extremely passive-aggressive sort of bloke. Anyway, so then I accidentally touch the quill against my broom while I'm packing, and that's when I thought I'd gone mad or something. It was like, I was hearing this complete history of my broom in my head, all the spells that were used to put together, all the people who touched it before me, and just a whole bunch of other stuff."

Remus examined the quill with increased suspicion. He wondered if something powerful enough for that sort of effect could be entirely harmless.

"So its got an effect like Priori Incantatem?"

"Something like that, but stronger. I tested it out on a lot of other things and I think it what it technically does is read the traces of magic in things. I don't know what it would've been used for originally, but I bet it'd make studying easier if you touched it to a textbook, at least. "

"Does it work on people?" Remus asked, and prodded Peter in the forehead with the quill. Peter gave it a cross-eyed look.

"It's not going to work if you're trying to read his thoughts, he doesn't have any," Sirius said, and snatched the Backwards Quill from Remus so he could tap it on his penknife. His eyes widened after a moment's pause.

"Whoa."

"See?" James looked smug. "You get its whole history, don't you?"

"That's actually pretty neat. A bit too nerdy for my tastes, personally, but I can imagine Remus getting some use out of it—"

"I'll be taking my quill back now, thank you," said Remus, and smiled as he stole it back.

"So now that you've all had a go at me," said Peter grumpily, reaching into the trunk, "how about I take whatever this is?"

He held a small, square mirror in his hands.

"Not that one you can't." James snatched the mirror back away from him. "Here, take it, Sirius. I was saving these for us to use."

"A  _mirror_? Well thanks  _Jamie_ , can't wait to carry it around in my purse—"

"Shut up and pay attention for a second, will you? I'm not giving it to you so you can put on your makeup."

James had produced a second, identical mirror from his trunk and put it up to his face.

"Sirius Black."

"Christ!

Sirius yelped and dropped his mirror. Peter was the only one with the presence of mind to go scrambling after it before it hit the stone floor and shattered; Remus was too busy knocking himself back into James' bedpost and James himself was choking with laughter.

"It's  _his_  face," gasped Peter. Indeed—even with Peter holding it, the mirror reflected only James.

"Wanker," muttered Sirius. He took the mirror back and squinted like there had to be a trick to it besides what he saw. "What, I'm supposed to watch you put  _your_  makeup on?"

"The mirrors are communication devices!" James cackled. "Just say the name of the person who's holding the other one and you can talk to them—we could use them in detention and no one would ever cotton on!"

Remus now noticed that everything James said was repeated by Sirius' mirror with only the slightest delay. Sirius now regarded his mirror in a new light.

"Well, if you put it  _that_  way—that's not a bad idea, James."

"I also had a few other ideas for them," said James, waggling his eyebrows, "but most of those ideas involve plans which I have yet to reveal."

"Well hurry up and reveal them, why don't you?"

"Because I've still got to build up the suspense first, obviously!"

"I think I've had enough of your suspense to last me a lifetime already, thank you..."

"What  _can_  I have?" asked Peter.

There was also Peter Pettigrew, mousy haired and socially awkward, but someone Remus could trust not to laugh when he had awkward moments of his own.

_How long do you suppose I should wait to write to James or Sirius?_  Remus had written to Peter on their very first day of summer break.  _Trying not to look too desperate here._

_Write them right away, of course,_  came Peter's reply.  _What's the worse that could happen (besides being made fun of for the rest of your life)?_

Peter was also an excellent student who happened to be a very poor wizard, though he did try very hard to keep up with his friends, and Remus couldn't say there wasn't any valor in that. Peter was the third addition to this group which Remus had mentally begun to call "the Marauders."

There really wasn't much of a story behind the name, sorry to say. He really might've thought of a better one if he'd known it would eventually stick.

"You can pick yours out later," Sirius told Peter impatiently. "Right now James is going to show us the thing he's been harping about all summer or else I'm putting this penknife in a place where it wasn't intended to go."

"Alright, alright—"

James dove back into his trunk and withdrew something from the very bottom.

"TA-DAH!"

"That's a—!"

"Blimey!"

Remus had no idea what the others were excited about besides the thing in James' hands being very impressive looking. It looked very much like fabric woven from water, and when James unfolded it the impossibly smooth cloth was so enormous that it poured right onto the floor.

"Erm," Remus began, "excuse my ignorance, but—"

"Don't recognize what it is yet?" James shook the fabric like it was a matador's capote—was it actually a cloak? "Watch this."

James swished the thing over his shoulders vanished. Remus himself had been Disillusioned by Madam Pomfrey many times, yet he had never seen the full effect of invisibility on someone else—it was exactly like a giant eraser had come along and wiped James from existence.

"That's— _an invisibility cloak?_ "

"However did you guess?" laughed James' voice. "Shall I model it for you all? Feel free to request any poses in particular!"

Remus laughed helplessly with the others as James' feet made a circular path of indentations in the rug.

"That is  _ace_ ," Peter sighed.

James tugged the cloak back down around his shoulders so that only his grinning head reappeared.

" _Extremely_  ace, innit? I almost couldn't believe we just had one lying around. Can you imagine the  _possibilities?_ "

"Oh my  _god_ ," said Sirius, dropping his hands and gasping, as though he had just realized this. "You're  _right_."

"He's  _right_ ," Peter echoed.

"No more sneaking," James said, nodding. "We could waltz right past Pringle and he'd never know..."

"Just imagine," said Peter, dreamily. "We could go out whenever we wanted!"

"You were already doing that," Remus pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but now it'll be even  _easier!_ And we could split up even, if we wanted, and use those mirrors to talk back and forth—"

" _Exactly_ ," said James.

" _Exactly._ " Sirius stood up only to collapse backwards back onto his bed in a fit of glee. "Oh my god. This is going to be  _amazing!_ Is this what love feels like?"

"Are you referring to me or the cloak?"

"Whichever makes it easier to sleep at night, I guess. Christ—we  _need_  to break this cloak in!" Sirius bolted upright again, a fire lit behind his eyes. "We should go out  _tonight!_ "

James and Peter nodded furiously at one another. Remus looked anxiously between them all—it was now or never.

"Er."

"Don't worry," James assured him brightly. "We'll still bring back snacks for you like always."

"That's not it. I was going to ask—since you're all going out tonight, then—would it be too much of a bother if—?"

"If?"

"Well." Remus breathed deeply to calm himself. "I was thinking that I might want to go with you, maybe. To give it a try, like."

The other boys stared at him with alarm.

"Did you hit your head or something?" Peter sounded almost motherly with concern.

"I haven't hit my head," insisted Remus. "It's just—it doesn't seem very likely that we'd be caught anymore, right? So there's less risk involved now."

"You are not the Remus that I once knew," Sirius told him, with a delighted sort of confusion. "You do remember that the last time we asked you to come with, you told us you refused to start down a path in life which could lead only to Azkaban?"

"I may have been a touch dramatic last time," said Remus. "But it's not breaking the rules that I mind, so long as it's not doing any harm. It's the part where you get  _caught_  that I'm not fond of."

"He's come so far, our little Remus." James looked just as motherly as Peter earlier. "And here I thought he didn't have a rebellious bone in his body..."

"Let me guess," teased Sirius. "You just don't want to be left out?"

And here was Remus J. Lupin, the least Marauder-ish of them all, still vertically challenged and still struggling to accept his right to have friends. The knew the risks were mounting, yet if he could only feel that he belonged, if he could only experience some semblance of inclusion...

"Maybe Remus just wants to see what the school looks like at night," Peter offered helpfully.

"Maybe he's given himself head trauma and doesn't remember it because of the head trauma," James offered, rather less helpfully.

"Look," Remus said. "I don't know  _what's_  wrong with me—maybe I've finally come down with the same sickness as the rest of you—but I  _do_  want to come. I want to give it a chance."

"We're not trying to stop you," Sirius told him. " _I'm_  not, at least."

"Me neither," Peter said. "I'd be great to have you with."

"I wouldn't mind either," agreed James. "You sure you can handle the risk, though? McGonagall might behead us all if we're caught, you know."

"I know," said Remus, determinedly. "But I still think it sounds like fun."


	13. One of Them

**II. One of Them**

"Wands?

"Check."

"Mirrors?"

"Check, for god's sake! We were planning to stay together anyway!"

"Anything could happen," said Remus.

"I agree with Mum, anything  _could_  happen. Now—hold on… where's the cloak?"

"You're  _wearing_  it!"

It was hard for anyone else not to notice that James currently only existed as a floating head.

"Oh, right," said James, looking sheepish. "Ready?"

"We're ready, already! We were ready five minutes ago, but Pete had to go to the loo!"

"I couldn't help it!"

"Don't  _yell_ , someone'll hear us—"

"If you're all just going to pick on me—!"

"Stop fighting, let's go!"

James kicked the portrait hole open—a yelp interrupted one of the Fat Lady's massive snores. The Marauders filed out quickly, double-checked to make sure the cloak had them hidden properly, then hurried down the corridor.

"Who's there?" the Fat Lady called out with suspicion, swinging her portrait closed.

"No one," Sirius stage-whispered.

James hit him.

Tonight would mark the first of many midnight forays into the castle for all four Marauders. At Remus' request, however, they would not attempt to go exploring together quite yet—they planned only to take a safe route to the kitchens, stay for a while, then head right back. James and Sirius had done this a dozen times already even without the help of the cloak.

"I've never even  _seen_  these kitchens you speak of," Remus whispered.

"Well of course you haven't," Sirius whispered back. "The kitchens don't exist, after all."

" _What?_ "

"You heard me. There aren't any kitchens—this has all just been an elaborate plot to get you in trouble, of course. So sorry you had to find out this way."

"Stop trying to scare him," Peter implored. "Now you've got _me_  worried."

"Oh right, you've never been there either, have you? To the kitchens that don't exist, I mean."

"The kitchens are just well hidden," laughed James. "Dad reckons they keep the location a secret or else you'd get people nicking food left and right—he's the one who told me how to get in, actually."

"So how'd  _he_  know?"

"Dad wouldn't say. But Sirius and I found out there's alcohol kept in the kitchens for the professors, so that's probably why he decided not to go into detail."

"Please don't tell me—"

"We didn't," said James, hastily. "Well,  _I_  didn't—"

"I spat mine out," said Sirius, hastier. "Tasted worse than week old—"

It sounded like a door had just closed somewhere far away. Remus promptly glued himself to James' arm.

"Time to shut up," James murmured, so they did.

There were no more scares to be had for the rest of the trip, however, and the Marauders had arrived at their destination soon enough: a completely unremarkable stretch of hallway which contained a single painting of a bowl of fruit. James gave the others a quick look before reaching up to tickle—quite honestly and literally  _tickle_ —a pear on the left side of the painting. A door handle appeared.

"This is it," said James, and led the way in.

Hogwarts' kitchen was just as large as the Great Hall above. There were pots and pans and utensils everywhere Remus looked, on walls and on stoves and on counters, there were five long tables set with golden plates—these were positioned just the same as those on the Great Hall's dining tables—and there was also a massive brick fireplace on the far end of the room, where the morning's porridge already simmered in black pots.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Black!"

Remus had never seen a real life house-elf before; he found it quite shocking when an entire mob of them came streaming in from a room off to the side (this must have been their sleeping quarters). They were odd-looking creatures, small enough for even Remus to dwarf them, who wore matching tea towels in place of clothing. Though Remus had long imagined house-elves to be perpetually miserable, right now they were all humming in excitement, like serving these boys would be the greatest honor they'd ever known.

"Hey everyone," Sirius greeted. He patted a house-elf on the head but had to pry another off his leg. "Doing alright?"

"Yes, yes, doing alright!" the house-elves chorused, and plates of food and butterbeers were already being passed across the sea of hands.

"We should introduce everyone," remembered James, popping off a bottle cap. "Everybody? This here next to me is Peter Pettigrew, and by Sirius is Remus Lupin. They're our friends."

"Friends of yours are friends of ours!"

"They're very brave to come here so late!"

"Very brave! Are they naughty boys just like James Potter and Sirius Black?"

"I'd like to think not," Remus answered, though he was beginning to feel uncertain about that.

"You guys seem very… dedicated," said Peter. He'd just taken a third and forth plate of food despite not actually having any more hands.

"Kind people deserve kind treatment!" said one of the house-elves warmly, and it ushered the boys over to the tables to sit at some recently conjured chairs.

"Now eat! Eat, eat!"

"Young boys need lots of food to grow up big!"

"Well if you insist," said Sirius, grinning—he'd already bitten into a turkey leg.

Remus was the only one who suddenly couldn't bring himself to eat. He felt undeserving of such enthusiastic kindness, and it was worse to know that nothing a house-elf did was completely voluntary.

"We shouldn't," said Remus, in a very small voice.

"Why not?" asked Peter.

"Moral considerations, I imagine. Just find him something chocolate and he'll change his tune," James instructed, pointing with his fork.

"Chocolate! Chocolate! Something chocolate!"

"I'm being grossly misrepresented here," Remus insisted. "I'm not in love with chocolate, I just never used to—"

"You're  _about_  to be in love with chocolate," breathed Peter, eyes widening.

Remus may have had strict ethical standards that he adhered to at one point, but the simple existence of chocolate cake was apparently more than enough to compromise them. Before Remus was an enormous slab of what could only be described as the Holy Grail of chocolate cake, oozing with chocolate syrup, and with thick chocolate frosting and so many chocolate shavings garnishing on top it was a miracle the whole thing didn't collapse from the weight of its own chocolatey goodness.

"Oh  _god,"_ said Remus, extremely disheartened. "I'm the worst person alive. That looks  _delicious_."

"The absolute worst," agreed Sirius. "You'll be sharing that, I'll have you know."

"We shall gladly share the burden of your sins," said James.

"Eat it before they kill you for it," Peter advised.

"Literally the worst," Remus groaned, but the house-elves gave a triumphant cheer as he fell to temptation and ate.

 

* * *

 

There were few things—few  _lawful_  things—that the Marauders all enjoyed doing quite as much as throwing themselves down under their favorite beech tree and chatting away their afternoons. They gathered here so habitually, in fact, that James' sudden absence felt like a terrible loss.

"I'm starting to hate the very  _concept_  of practice," complained Sirius. "James is never going to have free time ever again at this rate."

Peter appeared thoughtful as he plucked at the grass instead of doing his Astronomy homework.

"What if it's all part of McCormack's strategy? Thin out the weak ones early all that."

"I could definitely get behind that theory." Sirius squinted over at the Quidditch pitch like he expected the tiny, soaring figures to start dropping out of the air at any moment. "I swear, I wouldn't be surprised if we end up with some dead Gryffindors at this rate..."

"Even sunshine doesn't kept you from your morbid thoughts, does it," Remus sighed.

"My mind is a terrifying place, we've been through this already. What's  _your_  theory then?"

"Mine? I think McCormack's just been a bit overenthusiastic is all."

"A  _bit_?"

"More than half the team graduated last year, didn't they? She obviously just wants all the new players trained up."

"Yeah, but I think I'd quit sooner than put up with twenty hours in one week, wouldn't you?"

"Well, knowing James, I'd say he's thick enough to stay on the team no matter what he's put through. Remember the look on his face when he got to tell us he got on?"

"He looked like he wet himself, I swear."

"He probably  _did_  wet himself."

"It was pretty obvious they'd let him on, though. We all saw him—clearly the best Chaser there for try-outs, wasn't he? Probably would have let him on last year, too, if it wasn't for that arbitrary rule about first years not getting to bring their own broomsticks."

"Sorry—what's arbitrary mean again?"

"He means it's a rule because first years suck at everything," Sirius answered.

"Come off it," laughed Remus. "We've been second years for all of three weeks, you know."

" _Well_ ," said Peter, "I've always reckoned they've only got that rule because they don't want anyone's mum crying because her kid broke an arm barely a week into their Hogwarts' career, you know? Stupid parents, I tell you, thinking Quidditch is a dangerous sport..."

"It's not the only dangerous sport around here," said Remus, darkly. He could see a gathering of students near the Whomping Willow in the distance—once again, it appeared they were taking turns to see if anyone could make it to the Willow's trunk before they found themselves knocked unconscious.

"Lord. Are those idiots back at it already?"

"Looks like it. Wow—look at that tiny one go. She's made it more than half way already, wonder if she might actually do it? Going—still going—oof! Full points on that landing!"

Indebted to the Whomping Willow though he may have been, Remus still winced with sympathy as a branch finally caught the girl in the stomach and chucked her into the lake with an enormous splash.

"And yet another challenger approaches!" Sirius continued to narrate. "No strategy yet from the looks of it, but let's see how far pure guts can take him—"

"He's running—dodging—woo, just made it past that one!"

"Watch out for that  _other_  branch—!"

"Knocked flat! Ouch!"

"Can we stop with the running commentary?" said Remus, crabbily. "Both of you?"

"Killjoy," Sirius accused, but both tore his attention away from the spectacle obligingly enough. "Actually, Pete, speaking of killjoy—did you bring your homework out just for the illusion of productivity or what?"

"Something like that, I guess." Peter sighed as he picked up his homework. "Honestly though—who even cares why the moon's got cycles?"

"Probably only Professor Sinistra," Remus assured him.

"You're still working on that lunar phase essay? Just say all you know is the moon looks different some nights and be done with it, why don't you?"

"I didn't actually do the reading yet so that's kind of depressingly close to the truth. What did you write for yours, then?"

"I don't remember now, exactly. But it was something like, 'there are many unexplained phenomena in our universe, the mystery of the moon's phases being greatest among them…'"

Remus snorted.

"You didn't."

"I  _did_."

"I thought you got good marks in Astronomy?"

"Of course I do, O Ye of Little Faith. Not only am I named after a  _star_ ," Sirius impressed upon them, "but I  _also_  happen to know Professor Sinistra doesn't even read the homework she assigns. I forgot to finish an essay one time back in first year, see, and then even after I handed in a bunch of rubbish I still got it back with full points. So why would I bother, knowing I can get away with it?"

Remus hummed thoughtfully.

"Well—I know  _I_ get points marked off occasionally. Maybe she's just too amused by your nonsense to stop you?"

"No way. You're having me on."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Sirius' mouth opened a little.

"Oh god. What if she really—"

"Hold on," said Peter.

Remus and Sirius looked up and saw Peter holding out his lunar calendar at an arm's length.

"What?" Remus said.

"Last month," Peter began. "And the month before that."

But Peter never finished what he meant to say. Each of them had become momentarily distracted by an eruption of screams coming from around the Whomping Willow—one of the boys now lay face down on a bloodied patch of grass, not moving.

"Er—I think someone  _actually_  died just now."

Remus, not for the first time, thought this would be a very good time to go find an adult.


	14. Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to finish editing this chapter on Halloween. ): Alas

**III. Question**

"Halloween still feels a little strange for me now, you know." Lily Evans was chattering loudly with her friend Mary MacDonald somewhere down the Gryffindor table. "Can you even imagine? I've been celebrating a wizard holiday my whole life and didn't even know it..."

"You're so cute, Lily."

"You always say that."

"But I mean it! Muggles wanting to believe in magic, running around pretending about things they don't believe in—wizards haven't got _nearly_ that much imagination."

"You don't necessarily have to believe in something to have fun imagining, right? I think a lot of people still fancy the idea of there being a Father Christmas even once they've grown up, for example."

"Father Christmas at least brings people presents, though. Things like werewolves and vampires—they don't exactly fill  _anybody_  with warm thoughts, do they?"

Lily began to laugh. "I suppose that's true."

"Don't listen to her, Remus."

Peter was staring at Remus with a soulful look that quite unnerved him.

"Beg pardon?"

"Don't get so distracted," James clarified. "Kind of challenging to have a conversation with somebody who isn't paying attention, you know."

"Er—sorry. We were having a conversation?"

"We were trying to, anyway." Sirius elbowed him. "You feeling alright, mate?"

He really wasn't. The full moon was days away but Remus was already showing the strongest symptoms he'd had in months— _the onset of puberty, perhaps,_  Madam Pomfrey had suggested, which hadn't put him at ease at all.

"Sorry," Remus said again. "I'd better go have an early night, I think."

"What? C'mon, it's  _Halloween_! You can't just go to bed early on Halloween!"

"And yet I think I will." Remus took a Cauldron Cake from the table before retreating. "Enjoy the feast for me. Really."

 

* * *

 

Irritability and irrationality: these were the most common behavioral symptoms a werewolf exhibited before a full moon, according to experts. It was at times like these—times when he lay hoping for sleep to come erase the hours—that Remus wanted to find one of these experts and ask why it hadn't  _rationally_  occurred to them that experiencing long bouts of fever and fatigue, not to mention aches and pains, would make anyone irritable.

 _Bugger it all._  Insomnia had taken claim of Remus and he could not manage to sleep things off after all. His next plan was to compromise by curling up with a book (a horror novel, as was most appropriate), but this only managed to distract Remus well enough that he hadn't noticed the other Marauders creeping back into the dormitory until it was too late.

"Er," said Remus.

James was now at the foot of the bed with his hand wrapped tightly around one of Remus' bedposts. Peter was on Remus' right, kneeling, looking ready to pounce if needed, and Sirius was standing off to the left so that he formed a solid barrier of twelve year old between Remus and the door. It was all rather odd.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Remus raised an eyebrow at this most softly asked question.

"Still conscious, unfortunately. What's this about?

"I think we need to have a chat," said James, after consulting the others with a look. "If you're willing to stay up a bit longer, that is."

"A  _chat_ ," said Remus.

"We should go talk about this somewhere private, actually. Don't want anyone walking in, you know—"

"Is one of you in trouble?"

"No," said Sirius. "But we should  _really_  discuss this somewhere else."

Remus marked his page with a carefully placed bookmark and sighed as he set the book down on his bedside cabinet.

"I'll warn you right now, I'm not really in the mood for pranks."

"It isn't a prank," Peter said.

"Well has someone died then? Or—"

"It's nothing you've suggested so far," James said, with heightened tension in his voice. "Just… you're not bad enough for infirmary, obviously, so will you just come with us already? We'll use the invisibility cloak and go somewhere where we can... get this out of the way."

_Get this out of the way?_

"I'll come then," said Remus, frowning deeply. "But this better not be anything stupid. You're sure no one's died?"

Perhaps not, but it certainly still felt like death as James went to fetch his cloak. They marched down from the dormitories together, carefully dodging stragglers who weren't yet finished with their Halloween merry-making. Remus noticed that Peter seemed awfully jittery at the moment, but then again jitteriness was practically Peter's default state of being—more surprising was that  _Sirius_  was acting jittery too, and here Remus had long assumed that Blacks were simply too well-bred to jitter.

Was this about to be a prank after all? This became Remus' best guess, especially after James started whispering, "it's fine, don't worry," over and over.

They encountered a new problem once they'd slipped out through the front doors of the castle: a crisp wind kept threatening to blow the invisibility cloak off them, or at the very least reveal four pairs of disembodied feet. James nodded towards a shadowy little area where there were neither windows nor breezes, where it should be safe to talk at last.

"Christ that thing is hot," Sirius complained loudly, throwing off his portion of the cloak. This confused Remus even further, as the cloak was actually very cool to the touch.

"Keep your voice down," Peter reminded him.

"Alright then," said Remus, as he settled against the architecture of the castle's outer wall. He kept his tone as businesslike as possible. "Tell me what happened."

The other boys looked at one another. Peter still had the cloak hanging from one of his shoulders; he looked like he'd been cut in half.

"One of you lost your favorite pair of socks," Remus suggested.

"No."

"The house-elves are refusing to hand over anymore food."

"No. Remus—"

"Hold on, I've got a real one now. Does this have something to do with Severus? Or Lily? Both of them maybe?"

"Shut up already," said Sirius, pale in the face. "Maybe we could say what it is if you'd just  _shut up_."

Remus balked and went quiet.

"Alright," said James. "Well?"

"Well  _what_?" Peter said.

"Who's going to say it?"

"You know bloody well who's gonna say it," hissed Sirius.

"Well—maybe I changed my mind!"

" _You_  were the one that decided we needed to do this!  _And_  you were the one that came up with the plan, so it's only right if  _you_  have to ask!"

James clenched his fists. He swayed on the spot. Then he shook his head and tried once more.

"Well," James began, stopping to think after every word, "we've come to a—conclusion."

"A conclusion," said Remus.

"Yes. And, I mean, we have come to this… this conclusion… and by we I mean all three of us… and, well, this conclusion is based on… based on things."

"Observations," Sirius supplied.

"Facts, even," said Peter.

"Right, we've come to a conclusion based on observations and facts. And, well… we've all decided that you should tell us for sure, and, if it turns out that this is all wrong… and wow, we're going to look like the biggest arseholes ever if we are…"

Irritability and irrationality: these were the most common behavioral symptoms a werewolf exhibited before a full moon, according to experts. Remus would like to add 'so braindead from exhaustion that he won't recognize his own worst nightmare about to come true' to this list.

"So—the thing is—" James forced himself to look him in the eye. "I mean—a  _werewolf_ , Remus? A-are you?"

Remus felt suddenly detached from himself, as though a stranger had come to take his place: a stranger who believed James' question was only terrifying for its lack of grammatical sense. A stranger who didn't have to hope against hope that his ridiculous friends had confused Halloween with April Fools'. A stranger who hadn't just been discovered by a group of boys who normally didn't even have enough sense to keep themselves out of detention.

"Why are you asking?"

Oddly enough, this stranger seemed to share Remus' voice.

"Oh," said James, blinking. He'd clearly never considered that he might need to explain himself. "Well, I mean, Christ, you're gone once a month, for one thing…"

"I checked the lunar charts when we were doing that one bit of homework," Peter said, all very quickly. "And—well, I thought it was odd you weren't just leaving on the weekends, and you weren't gone exactly once a month either. The only pattern was that you've always been gone when the moon is full."

"Right. And I mean, if it happens once or twice it's not any big deal, but after five times it's not a coincidence anymore, and you've been out on the full moon at least seven times that we know of—"

"I still wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, though," said Sirius. He looked flustered. "Any explanation would do..."

"But then that didn't explain that you always looked a little scratched up when you came back, of course."

"Or how you'd always look a little ill beforehand."

"The next thing we did was—er—well, we asked Lily if she knew any details about your mum. Sorry about that," James said hastily, "but we didn't want to pry into your personal life directly—"

"And here was the strange thing: Lily told us she was pretty sure your mum was doing just fine, since you mentioned she does some sort of—I don't know, some Muggle job—"

"But we insisted you told us she was sick, so Lily told us it must be something really recent then. Well it  _can't_  have been recent, right? You first told us about it sometime in March last year. That didn't sit right with me—you told  _us_  but you didn't tell Lily? She's been your mate since the day you got here—"

"I thought maybe you were just a pathological liar at that point," said Sirius.

"My theory was that you just liked skipping class," said James. "You know, on top of being a pathological liar."

"I didn't think either of those things," confessed Peter. "I realized what the evidence meant almost from the start."

"Yeah, Sirius and me were—Sirius especially—we were in denial for a bit. So the next thing that happened was that Peter convinced us to go look up werewolves in the library and see if anything else fit."

"Right. Except you're the only one who's any good at research, Remus, so we thought it might be quicker if we just went and asked Madam Pince—"

"But she knew we were all friends, I guess, from the number of times we've been in there—"

"As soon as we said we were looking for books on werewolves—"

"The look on her face—"

"I was completely convinced at that point."

"Me too."

"Me three."

"We all were," said James, and then he was able to look back at Remus more bravely. "So—just tell us the truth, alright? And if we're wrong, we won't say another word about it, but I mean, if we're right..."

"So are you or aren't you?" implored Sirius. "Please just tell us."

Remus felt himself slide clumsily back into his own body before he spoke. Or maybe that feeling had simply been the world in general, come falling down around him.

"Well there you have it."

Everyone blinked at him.

" _What_?"

"You win," said Remus. His voice is trembled.

"Er," said Peter.

"I said you win! You did it, you really did it—really marvelous!  _Marvelous_  work! Jolly good!"

"There's no need to be hysterical," begged Peter.

"Well  _excuse me_!" There was clearly no better time on earth for hysterics, thank you. "Excuse me if I'm not taking this all that well! I suppose you want to hear me say congratulations? Because you've _really_ earned it?"

There was stunned silence all around.

" _Fuck_ ," said Sirius, taking a horrified step backward. "He  _is_."

James' eyebrows went up so high on his forehead they could have broken off from the strain.

"W-wait," Peter stammered. "He hasn't even said for certain—"

Remus' eyes swam with tears. He closed them and buried his face in his hands; this seemed as good a confirmation as any.

"Oh my god," whispered James. " _You're serious_? Y-you're honestly— _honestly_ a—?"

"I can't believe it—I don't think I've ever even _seen_ a—"

"But how are you  _here_? And how the hell is nobody dead yet, if you're a—?"

_Werewolf._

_Werewolf._

_Werewolf._

Remus was terrified. He couldn't bare the thought of losing everything he had wanted so badly: magic, Hogwarts, friends. All of those things, one by one, would be stripped away again, and it was all his fault,  _all_  his fault, for letting letting his secret slip. He would have to leave here, and go back to that world where those things could not exist again, he would go back to be shunned and sick, locked up on the nights when the moon was full and left to suffer—

Because he, Remus J. Lupin, was undeniably, irrefutably a werewolf.


End file.
